A Lot Can Happen In Five Nights
by AlphaTheGriffin17
Summary: Mike Schmidt is desperate. He's lost his job. The rent is piling up. He's on his last few dollars. He has no friends, he's unwilling to ask his family for help. Things look bleak, until he's apparently saved in the form of a new security job at a local pizzeria. On his first night working there, he learns there's a lot more than meets the eye about Freddy's. And it's not that bad
1. Desperate Times

**Desperate Times**

Cold sweat trickling down his neck and his hands shaking, Mike Schmidt waited in the upstairs office of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. The noise of cheering children echoed faintly from downstairs and the only other sound was the typing of the secretary at her desk, along with her occasionally blowing and popping her gum.

He glanced at the clock. He was five minutes early for his meeting with the manager of this place. Was he the type of person who would value him being early? Or would he be able to sense the desperation that Mike felt for how badly he needed this job? The pit of worry in Mark's stomach continued to churn and twist until he was certain it'd burst out of him.

He'd seen the advert in the paper, after a week of desperate searching and rejections. While he'd hated his office clerk job, it was the only thing paying the bills, apart from his art commissions. But the latter wasn't large enough to sustain him without an actual job. He was on his last $20, he'd missed paying his rent twice, he'd barely been scraping by for food and he needed a miracle. Not many people were willing to hire someone with a major in Art.

He'd found it in the jobs column just this morning.

_HELP WANTED: FREDDY FAZBEAR'S PIZZA_

_Family pizzeria looking for security guard to work the nightshift. 12 am to 6 am._

_Monitor cameras, ensure safety of equipment and animatronic characters._

_$120 a week._

He didn't really care about the money. He'd done the math and learned that, in tandem with what money he made from his art, this would help pick up the slack. He'd called the number and they'd arranged a meeting with him that very day, much to his astonishment. The secretary, Mel, had told him to wait until the manager was ready for him.

Mike had just worn his old suit from work. It hadn't been washed for a couple of days and it smelled. He'd given his hair a quick comb and he'd shaved with a cheap razor. At least the cuts were drying up now. He'd be amazed if anyone in their right mind would hire him looking like this. Mel seemed to think so, from how she'd given him the once over before telling him to sit.

Mike had all of his fingers crossed. This had to work. It had to…

The door to manager's office opened and Mike shot to his feet. A portly man in a grey suit emerged from the office. He greeted Mike with a firm handshake and a welcoming smile.

"Ah, Mr Schmidt. We meet at last," he said jovially. "I am Aaron Johnson, manager of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria."

"I-it's a pleasure, sir," Mike stammered politely.

"Come on in. Please, take a seat." Mike slumped into the seat, trying to wipe off a few beads of sweat without him noticing. Things seemed to be going well so far. "So, Mike, applying for the position of night watchman, are you?"

"Y-y-yes sir," he answered, trying to speak as confidently as he could. "I um, I could uh, really use the j-job, sir."

"That's the kind of attitude we want!" Mr Johnson said heartily. "Congratulations Mike! You're hired!"

Mike's mouth fell open. Had he just heard Mr Johnson say what he think he did? Barely a minute into the interview?

"R-really…?" he asked, hardly daring to believe it.

"Indubitably!" he chortled. "I think you're just what we're looking for, Mike my lad. Let me just draw you up a contract here…"

Mike had a hard time fighting the grin off his face while Mr Johnson rifled through a few papers. A small part of him argued that this was too easy, that he'd barely asked him any questions. But he silenced that part of him with mental whooping. All it would take now was to sign this! Please, he begged, don't let this be some cruel joke.

Mr Johnson handed him the contract. A quick scan told Mike that he was to be held in contract for five days mandatory employment. After that, he had a choice to sign on permanently or seek other work. It was only $4 an hour, but Mike would take it. Desperate times called for desperate measures and it was only one little stumble.

With a flourish, he signed his name and handed the contract back. Clapping his hands together heartily, Mr Johnson stood up and shook his hand across the desk.

"Welcome aboard, my lad!" he boomed.

"Th-thank you, sir!" Mike could no longer contain the smile that broke out on his face. "Thank you, so much!"

"No. Thank _you_, my boy," he replied sincerely. "You go on and wait outside. I'll get your uniform and give you a little lay of the land."

Mike nodded quickly and left the office. It was all he could do to avoid fist pumping the air in triumph.

"You got the job, huh?" remarked the secretary snidely.

Mike didn't say anything. He just nodded, partly because he so elated at his success and luck, but also because he'd never really been one for talking to women well. That and Mel didn't really come across as friendly.

"Heh," she sniggered. "Good luck."

"I uh… thanks. Uh but um, how hard can it be?" he tried to say positively.

Mel merely smirked at him from her desk and went back to typing, chewing her gum loudly. Mike tried his best to ignore her. She was probably just trying to make him nervous because he was new. Wouldn't be the first time.

Mr Johnson emerged from his office moments later. He carried a plastic washing bag with some freshly washed clothes. They consisted of a blue shirt with the restaurant's logo on the back, black pants, a belt with a torch, keys, handcuffs and a Taser attached and a black cap. Kind of like what a mall cop might wear.

"This'll be your uniform," he told him, pressing it to his chest. "You might be on the night's watch, my lad, but that doesn't mean we can't have you looking unpresentable."

"O-of course, sir," Mike stuttered. He clutched the uniform, still with a bit of a grin.

"Eager to get started, eh?" He clapped Mike on the back. "That's the way, lad! Come on, I'll show you where you'll be working."

Still revelling in utter relief, Mike closely followed him back downstairs. He led him to a small room near the two front doors. Two doors led into the room, with a pair of buttons next to them. One labelled 'light', the other 'door'.

The office itself was nothing remarkable. A few blank monitors were stationed on the desk, a set of speakers were under it and a phone on the wall. There was some crumpled paper, an empty soda can, an office fan, a black laptop-like device connected with a cord to the socket and some things posted on the walls. One was a big poster depicting the restaurant's mascots and there were a few kids' drawings of them too.

"This'll be your office," Mr Johnson explained. "It's an easy enough job. This here's your security monitor." He patted the black laptop. "Just flip it open and you can see the _whole _restaurant without having to leave the comfort of your chair. You see anything during the night that's suspicious, you give 'em what for!"

"Um, right." A little nervousness took Mike again. He'd never been one for fights.

Mr Johnson saw his apprehension and chuckled. "Don't worry, lad. This restaurant's not had a break-in for over ten years. You should be fine, probably be bored all night. But it doesn't help to be prepared, eh?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Exactly. Now, a bit of fair warning: we have been having a little problem concerning cash recently. So, to save on power, we allocate a small amount of the restaurant's power for use at night, since you're the only one here," he elaborated. "That does mean that the lights won't be very bright and you have to mindful how you use your power. Your monitor, the lights and these security doors, they all use power."

"S-security doors?" asked Mike.

"Security doors." To demonstrate, Mr Johnson hit the door button and Mike yelped as a metal hydraulic door slammed into place. Another press and it slid back up. "In case there are any break-ins and things get a little hairy for you, just get these shut and ring up the police on the phone."

"B-b-but sir…" He paused until Mr Johnson nodded for him to continue. "If the power's limited a-a-and I run out…"

"Ah, a smart one too," complimented Mr Johnson. "Don't you worry about that lad, you won't be sealed in here. If the power runs down, there's an emergency failsafe so the doors open and you can get back out. As for the police, the station is just down the road, so they'd be here in no time. Don't you worry, lad. You'll be fine."

Mike let out a little sigh. "Thank you, sir."

"Not at all, Mike, not at all," he chuckled. "Right, let me show you who exactly you'll be guarding."

He led Mike towards the main body of the restaurant. The curtains had been shut to provide darkness for the show in here and the scent of freshly cooked pizza was making Mike's stomach rumble. Collections of excited, cheering children all directing their attention at the brightly lit stage illuminated in the dark.

Moving jerkily on it were three animatronic animals. They all had roughly the same bodies, just with different colouration and different heads. A dark purple rabbit with a bass guitar wearing a big red bowtie, a weird duck wearing a bib and a cupcake in her hand and a brown bear on centre stage with a microphone and a small black top hat.

While the kids were cheering with glee, Mike couldn't but feel slightly unsettled. Maybe it was to do with their jerky movements, their large teeth or their large, yet dead looking eyes. Or all of the above. Whatever it was, they gave Mike the creeps.

"Well, hey there kiddies!" called the bear in a deep, jolly voice. "You all having fun?"

The kids all cheered in response. Their parents seemed rather like Mike and looked a little unsettled by the performers.

"Right on!" the rabbit to his right in a tinny, high voice. "We'd hate to imagine you kids not having any fun! We wouldn't be doing our jobs right if you didn't!"

"And are you all enjoying the pizza?" asked the duck in a gentle, motherly voice.

Another cheer was raised.

"Well, I sure am glad to hear that. I made it myself," she said happily. "We wouldn't want you kids going hungry."

"Sure wouldn't," agreed the rabbit. "Now, I think it's time for another song! You kids ready?" Again they cheered. "Alright! On three! One, two-!"

"Hold up there, Bonnie! I got another one!" the bear cut off. "Hey kids! Why did the turkey cross the road?"

"Gee, I don't know, Freddy," the duck replied. "Why?"

"Because it was Chica's day-off!"

Most of the kids laughed. Some of them giggled. The parents largely rolled their eyes and Mike was almost one of them. But he wanted to continue making a good impression on Mr Johnson, so he refrained. Also, that duck was supposed to be a chicken then? Mike honestly couldn't tell.

The rabbit, Bonnie, groaned in theatrical exasperation and the chicken, Chica, giggled.

"Oh, Freddy! The only turkey I know around here is you," she returned.

Freddy chuckled. "Good one, ol' buddy! Now, Bonnie, how about that song?"

"You sure there's no more jokes now, Freddy?" asked Bonnie.

"Not right now!"

"That's a relief," she sniggered. "Right, here we go! One, two, a one, two, three!"

As they launched into a catchy little number with Bonnie on guitar, Freddy singing and Chica on backing vocals, Mr Johnson turned back to Mike.

"Quite something, aren't they?"

"Y-yes, sir," Mike agreed. Though wasn't sure what that 'something' was.

"Yes, indded. The kids might be the life and soul of this place, but those three are the heart," he remarked wistfully. "That's what I'm trusting you with here, Mike. The heart of this place."

"Y-y-you mean… them?" Mike asked.

"I do," he nodded. "It'll be your responsibility to make sure nothing happens to these three while the doors are closed. Keep an eye on 'em, make sure they don't go anywhere and that nothing happens to 'em. Just take good care of them and they'll take good care of you."

Mike wanted to say something. He wanted to say that they were just machines and that taking care of them would be nothing challenging. And they were machines. How exactly were they going to take care of him if he did? What did he mean by that?

But the tone in Mr Johnson's voice told him that he set a lot by them. Whether it was nostalgia or something to do with humans forming attachments to things, he didn't know. Either way, he nodded solemnly.

"I'll do my best, sir," he promised.

"Means a great deal to hear that from you, Mike." Mr Johnson patted his shoulder. "Thank you. Right, I'll let you get on your way. Your shift starts at twelve, so make sure you're here sharp to lock up. Get me, lad?"

"Understood, sir," Mike replied.

"Good man and good luck," he wished, strolling on back to his office.

Mike watched him go and looked at his uniform again. He grinned once more that he had a job again, that he might finally earn some money and that it was a nice little place like this. Even if the robots were kind of freaky. Things were starting to look up.

A shiver went up his spine. Looking around, he saw nothing. Just the kids, the parents, and the characters on stage… his eyes stopped travelling around the room and lingered on the stage. He held them, blinked a couple of times, but brushed it off. It was probably nothing, he thought to himself. Just seeing things.

Even so, he could have sworn that, for a brief moment there, Bonnie wasn't looking out at the crowd. She was looking at the back of the room.

Right at Mike.


	2. Night One

**Night One**

Like for his interview, Mike was there at 11:55 pm promptly. It wasn't like he had much to do before coming here anyway. He made a few new art pieces from commissions he received from the internet, watched a few videos on Youtube and did a little research about his new place of work, just to pass the time.

His laptop, charger and Ethernet cable were some of the few things he hadn't pawned off to make some money. It was his only connection to people who wanted his commissions and he couldn't really afford to not have internet.

It turned out it used to be pretty famous a good few years ago. Families and their kids came from all over the country to see the characters perform, get a taste of pizza, have a good time. Now, its reputation had become more infamous and it only seemed to maintain local fame and a steady, but dwindling customer basis.

It all appeared to have something to do with what happened in 1987. It was hard to find anything concrete as the restaurant had done quite a bit to smooth it over and cover it up. But something had happened to one of the kids there and whatever it was, it hadn't done the restaurant any favours. From there, it was hard to find anything recent. Things had been mostly quiet.

There were some accounts from people who'd apparently worked there, the same position as him. But one look at the link and the little blurb had been enough to convince him not to even glance at them. They all seemed to be weird stories about what happened after dark at the pizzeria.

Just dumb ghost stories and creepypasta fuel, dismissed Mike. He'd just lucked out on this job. He wasn't going to click on some random page and find out some stupid story about the place being haunted or some dumb crap.

He was a little scared he might end up believing it.

There was no one there at the restaurant when he got there. Mr Johnson's office was empty, as was Mel's desk (Thank god) and it seemed the cleaners had been by. They hadn't done a very good job though. Muddy footprints and stains from pizza and spilled soda still stained the floor. But hopefully, he wouldn't even need to leave the office.

He made himself comfy in the security office. The chair was good enough, but if he sat in it too long he was sure his butt would start to hurt. He made a mental note to stand up and do a few stretches on occasion.

Taking the camera monitor, he flipped it open. In the bottom left there was an indicator showing he had 98% power left and a metre showing how much he was using. The camera moved slowly from side to side, showing him the stage where the animatronics stood motionless. Their lifeless eyes stared out at the empty dining area, waiting for the show the very next day. Yeah, he still didn't get their appeal. Those things were damn creepy.

Below the monitor screen, there was a set of buttons, all corresponding to a camera designation on the screen. Right now, it was camera 1A pointed at the stage. Pressing 1B showed him the dining area. He quickly scrolled through the images, getting a quick mental layout before setting it back on the stage.

His job was to keep an eye on these three. He just had to keep the camera fixed on them until his shift ended at six. Mr Johnson had been right. This was gonna be a long night.

It was eerie, how quiet the place was now everyone had gone. Nothing but the buzzing of the lights and the sound of Mike's own breathing. There was the brief flicker of static whenever he flipped up the monitor, but nothing else.

So it wasn't surprising when Mike nearly leaped out of his chair at the sound of a phone ringing. He managed to catch the monitor before it could fall to the floor, took a few deep breaths and looked to the phone on the wall.

"_H-hello? Hello?!"_ an urgent voice asked.

"Hello?" Mike answered. "Who is this? I'm sorry, but uh visiting hours are-"

"_Look, I'm sorry I can't talk to you properly,"_ the voice went on. _"But I need you to listen, really listen here!"_

It didn't take long for Mike to get it. It was a recording, somehow left on the phone's answering machine to go off at a prearranged time. Humouring it, he listened.

"_Look, th-this is for the next security guard in that office. I s-set it to go off at this t-time so you should be hearing this,"_ he stammered on. _"Now, you m-m-might think I'm crazy, but I'm not, I'm really not!"_

"Uh huh, sure buddy," Mike muttered.

"_They had this other recording over it, but I taped over it. He tells you there's 'nothing to worry about', but I know! I fixed it, so now you'll know the truth! Look, there's stuff you don't know about this place. Stuff they don't tell you in the interview! It's these things!_ _These_… characters! _Th-they don't tell you this stuff, but I know! I saw them! These things, they-!"_

At that point, Mike hung up with an exasperated sigh. First day on the job and it looked like he was already the victim of some kind of prank. Probably some guys who were trying to play off the weird stories that had sprouted from this place to try and scare the new guy. He was not in the mood to deal with anything like that.

"I need a coffee," murmured Mike.

Flipping down the monitor, he walked out into the west hall towards the break room. He'd brought his own mug from home. He never trusted ones used at work and looking at the state of the ones he found, his hunch was right.

Boiling the kettle, he sprinkled a few beans into cup and waited for the water. He went to grab a spoon, hoping it would be relatively clean…

He paused. He looked up. He'd heard something. It sounded like it came from the hallway outside. He reached for the torch in his belt and flicked it on. Only the white and checker walls met his eyes.

"Hello?" he called. "Anyone out there?"

Cautiously, he walked out into the hallway. He shone his torch down the right. Nothing. Down the right. Nothing there either. He waited a moment, shrugged and headed back inside the break room.

The kettle had finished boiling and he picked out a spoon that looked the least grimy.

"There we go," he murmured. "Black, two sugars." He took a sip and grimaced. "Not exactly Starbucks, but better than nothing."

He made his way back to the office and set the coffee on his desk. He was going to need it. Sighing, he pulled out his phone. Not for social reasons of course. A) No one in their right mind would still be up this late. B) Even if they were, there was no one he would even want to talk to. His only regular contacts were his parents and his phone company. There were other numbers, but none of them ever texted or called him and he never texted or called them. And not just for financial reasons. He just couldn't really bring himself to delete them. Not even his ex's number.

God, he was pathetic.

So, he just flipped his phone open and went to the games. He could at least play a little Snake to pass the time.

On about his twentieth attempt, he decided to check the clock. 2PM. Still four more hours of this. But hey, that was eight dollars earned already, he thought. Setting his phone down, he went to flip up the monitor.

A loud clatter got his attention. He jerked in his seat and pulled out his torch again. He shone it out into the left hallway.

"Hello?" he called out. "A-anyone there?"

Putting a hand on his taser, just in case, he stood up and left the office. Again, there was nothing. No, not completely. The storage cupboard door was swinging against the hallway wall. But… hadn't it been shut before?

Mike gulped and unhooked his taser. Gripping his torch, he steadily approached the cupboard. He shone his light down on what had come out. A damp mop, its loose ends falling about, giving Mike an image of a woman who had fallen out of a shower.

He shone the torch into the store cupboard. Nothing there either. Completely empty. Just a shelf laden with buckets and cleaning products. Mike sighed. It had probably just fallen out because someone hadn't shut the door properly.

Annoyed at himself for jumping at shadows, Mike propped the mop back into place and made sure the door was nicely shut properly. The cleaners couldn't even close the door properly? No wonder this place was-

Another metal clatter made him jump. He whipped the torch in its direction. It came from the door next to the stage. The place they kept all the animatronic parts. Spare costumes and parts for the endoskeletons underneath.

Mike's heart pounded against his chest and he tried his best to control his breathing. Either he was just hearing things and getting jumpy or… someone had broken in. Noticing how much his footsteps echoed down the halls, Mike pulled out his taser once more and steadily approached the door. He made a point not to even glance at the characters on stage.

But it turned out that the characters on stage were nothing compared to what he saw in that room. He knew the costume parts were just empty heads. He knew they couldn't do anything. But seeing those eyeless sockets, their mouths hanging open dully in a way that reminded him of skulls in a crypt…

It was amazing he didn't just leg it back out again. But he forced himself into backstage and tried his best not to think about it too much or look at them.

He shone his torch around the entirety of the room. There were of course the spare costume heads, notably the rabbit head that was looking right at the door he came in through. A spare endoskeleton was sitting on the desk, inactive and waiting to be encased in one of the suits. Looking at it, he was having a hard time deciding which he found creepier.

But there was nothing else here. No intruder, no burglar, no vandals. He groaned again. How was he letting this get to him so easily? He needed to get himself together. This job could be easy if he stopped jumping at his own freaking shadow all the time.

Another realisation made him groan again. What had Mr Johnson told him just this morning about this job? What had he just spent his time looking at and wasted time by not using? Almost slamming the backstage door, he stalked back down the hall.

Returning to the security office, Mike's annoyance continued to replace his fear. Why was he bothering to search all these places by himself when he could just look at the cameras from here? First night and he was already messing up.

He flipped the monitor open and cycled between the cameras. Nothing in the corridors either side of him. No one in the bathrooms. No one in the dining area. The camera for the kitchen didn't work, but the audio betrayed nothing. What was the point in that?

But then he realised something. Something he hadn't really noticed when he'd first flipped the monitor open. Now though, it dawned on him and was with almost a sense of dread that he changed the camera to the one at the stage. The bear, the chicken, they were present.

But the rabbit was missing.

Mike could feel his heart stop. She was gone. The rabbit was gone. She was meant to be onstage, with the others and she was gone. How? How was that possible? Was there really a break in? Had someone stolen her? How had they managed to carry off a ton of suit and skeleton without Mike hearing? Maybe they tried to and they were still here?

Desperate, Mike went through the cameras again. He stopped on the one in the spare parts room. He found her. There was the rabbit in the room. She was standing next to the table where the endoskeleton should be. There was no one else with her. No one holding her.

She was looking directly at the camera. Directly at _Mike_.

Panic overtook his mind as he slammed the monitor down. His eyes darted to the left hall and he slammed the door button. The security door fell into place and Mike's thoughts began shooting off erratically.

This wasn't some break in. The rabbit had moved. She had moved on her own to that room. Maybe that had been her making all the noise before. She'd been toying with him, messing with him. He was right, when he thought she'd been watching him. She'd targeted him, the moment he'd stepped in here. Were the others the same? Could they move? Were they out for his blood too?

His mind cast back, to the recording. It had talked about the characters, the last guy who worked here. Was this it? Was this what the guy on the phone had…? Wait. The guy on the phone. The guy with the crazy act, talking about the characters that performed here. That meant…

He started to calm down when he realised what this must be. It was all part of the prank. There was someone dressed up in the rabbit suit from the stage and they were moving around just to mess with him. It was a perfect setup. The guy on the phone, the stories. There were even cameras posted everywhere! They'd get recordings from every angle, post it all over the internet. Everyone laughing at what a terrified wimp he was.

Well, even a wimp like Mike had his limits. And this time, he had a taser to help get across that particular message. He pulled it and his torch from his belt, verified the guy was in the room where they kept extra parts and suit pieces and strode out down the hall.

He shoved open the door and found him, standing in the middle of the room, staring up at the camera. He almost laughed at how dumb it was.

"Okay, guy," he said, putting his best tough voice, "that was a pretty good show. Way to pull a fast one on the new guard. But come on, enough's enough. So, why don't you take off the silly mask and show me who you are?"

He didn't answer. He didn't move. He didn't give any kind of acknowledgment that he'd even heard Mike. He got a little chill, but reminded himself what was going on here.

"Come on, man," urged Mike. "You had your fun, now cut it out. I-I am the security guard here. I'll use f-force if I have to."

Way to sound intimidating, he chastised himself. Nothing sounds tough like a stammer. But again, the figure didn't move. Maybe he'd heard the stammer and figured he could still try to get a little more out of him.

Deciding to end this himself once and for all, Mike strode forward. He fixed his torch back in his belt and readied his taser. He found a little latch on the back of the head. He flicked it up, grabbed the head and yanked it off.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

There was no one underneath it. There was no person grinning and guffawing at his expense. There was only a metal skull. Crude, square, with bulging round eyes and a jaw stuck with teeth. No sign of skin or any kind of life. It was just… _this!_

Then, it turned. Dear god, it turned!

With a metal whirring, the head slowly rotated on its axis. Dead eyes that suddenly glowed red found him. They stared right at him, through him, piercing his very soul.

Panic rose in his chest once again. With a loud clunk, he dropped the head and scrambled away. The whole body began to turn, the hands reaching down to pick up the discarded head. Mike decided, then and there, he'd seen enough.

Turning tail, he sprinted from the backstage room. He thought he could hear loud, metal footsteps behind him, but he sure as hell wasn't going to look back and check. He saw the light from his office! He could get in there, shut the doors, call the cops!

He practically jumped into his office. He whipped around, his hand already reaching for the button-

A large, rough hand grabbed his wrist. It was a dark purple, with flaking synthetic fur. A massive thing filled his whole vision. Those eyes bulged out in his face, a shrill scream pierced his ears. This was it! This was the end!

Mike felt himself go limp. He started to keel over. He felt something catch him. His last thought before he blacked out was that this really had been too good to be true…


	3. Down The Rabbit Hole

**Down The Rabbit Hole**

When Mike opened his eyes, he was back in the security office. The fan was still spinning, the monitor screen was before him ready to bring up. Everything was quiet again, apart from what sounded like metal clanging elsewhere in the building.

He touched his forehead. It was drenched in sweat, as were his pits. It was soaking through his shirt. His torch and keys were still in his belt, his phone and wallet were still in his pocket. Apart from feeling a little groggy, everything looked to be fine. He was fine. The cool breeze from the fan was soothing, but he could have sworn the chair had been further from it.

Had that just been a nightmare? Had he just fallen asleep and dreamed about that creepy rabbit stalking him around the building? Yeah, that must have been what happened. It had felt so real though…

"Well," he murmured, "enough sleeping on the job. What's the time now?" He checked the clock. Still a couple of hours to go. "Great. Might as well check on them…"

He flipped up the monitor, directing the screen to the stage. There was the bear, the duck and…

His heart stopped. The rabbit was missing. She wasn't there with the others. Like in his dream. But had that really been a dream then? If she wasn't on stage, then…

He froze. The metal clanging had stopped. Padding footsteps were coming from the left side of the hall. It sounded like they were running, sprinting. His eyes flashed to the button for the security door. He wanted to press it, but his body wouldn't let him.

The sound was getting closer. He gripped the monitor, his palms were sweating, his heart racing. He finally slammed the monitor down, sprung up from his chair, hurried to the door-

"HEY!" a feminine voice called.

His high pitched scream must have shattered a few panes of glass when he saw the rabbit in the doorway. He scrambled back and curled up in the corner as it entered the room, carrying something. A knife from the kitchen? Something worse?

"OH GOD!" He hid behind his arms. "Please, please no! I have so much to live for! I'll do anything you want, please!"

"Anything?" the voice asked.

"Yeah, anything!" he repeated hysterically.

"Well, how about you stand up so I can get a proper look at you?" it asked cheerily. "Come on, is that anyway to say hi to a new friend?"

He stopped shaking. It didn't sound very murderous or evil. If anything, it sounded friendly. Was it just something to get him to drop his guard? Slowly, very slowly, he lowered his arms and stared. It still looked pretty creepy as it was.

"Oh, I know what might help. Gimme a sec…"

One by one, hands grabbed sections of the body and pulled it off piece by piece, revealing a much slimmer body underneath. Small hands then went to the head and lifted it off.

"Whew, there we go!" it, or rather she, said. "Man, it's always a relief to get outta those suits. So, that better?

Mike had to admit, without the 'suit' he could that she wasn't as freaky anymore. She actually appeared to be human. Her eyes were big and open set with black eye shadow, with a head of purple hair that flowed down to her shoulders. Her skin had a healthy glow, a pale brown. Aside from that, she wore a white shirt with a red bowtie and purple waist coat, a matching loose worn jacket, black fingerless gloves and black pants with large boots.

It was an odd mix of sophisticated dresser and punk rocker. On top of that, she also had a set of purple rabbit ears sprouting from her head. Looking further, he saw she held a cup of the restaurant's soda in one hand and a cupcake in the other. When he bought his hands down, the smile on her face turned into a grin.

"Hey, there you are!" she greeted. "Nice to see you back in the land of the living. I knew I was gonna end up freaking you out, but I didn't expect you to just keel over like that. You scared me, man!"

"I… I scared you?" he asked, his tone bordering incredulous.

"Yeah, like, a lot!" she went on. "I took you back here, moved you closer to the fan so you might wake up and got you a few things from the kitchen when you did. Hope Chica doesn't mind me taking some of personal stash, but I'm sure she'll understand."

She placed the cupcake and soda in front of him, hopped back and waited.

Mike was stunned. The rabbit woman continued to grin at him, her eyes no longer glinting with what he'd assumed to be malice, but joy and excitement.

"So… you're not gonna kill me?" he asked tentatively.

"Kill you?" She gasped in horror. "Why would you think I'd do something like that?!"

"Y-you were staring at me through the cameras!"

"I wanted to mess around with you for a bit."

"You snuck around the building, s-s-stalking me!"

"So I could surprise you when I jumped out at you."

"You screamed in my face!"

"That was just for a little scare!" she insisted. "Okay, maybe I overdid it a bit-"

"'Maybe?!'"

"Look, if I said I was really, really sorry… would that help?" she asked.

Mike wanted to keep on yelling, in utter disbelief, at this woman pranking him like that. But the way she looked at him now, her bright green eyes shimmering like that, he just couldn't stay mad. He'd always been kind of softy.

He sighed in exasperation. "Fine, I… I guess it would."

"Yes!" She fist pumped and beamed. "Well, how about we introduce ourselves properly then. The name's Bonnie Bunny and I'm the guitar player here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza!"

She held out a hand. Mike regarded it warily before reaching for it.

"Well, uh, my name's Mik- AGH!" A mild shock went up his arm and he jerked his hand back. "What the…?!"

Bonnie, laughing hysterically, held up her hand to reveal a joy buzzer attached to it.

"Oh, that's classic!" Her laughing trailed off when she saw Mike's scowl. "Heh heh… sorry, couldn't resist. Hey come on, it's just a little joke." She laughed nervously, but Mike kept his scowl. "Okay, okay. You were introducing yourself and I was mean and cut you off. Sorry. Try again. Pleeeeease? I promise, no pranks this time."

"That so?" he asked sceptically.

"Scout's honour," she vowed.

"Fine then." He waited until she removed the buzzer and reached for her hand. "I'm Mike Schmidt. I'm the new security guard. And I'm honestly starting to regret it," he muttered.

"Nice to meet you, Mike!" Bonnie greeted, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "Lemme be the first to say 'welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria! And congrats on not bolting out the door in the first five minutes."

"Th-that happens often?" he asked.

"Pretty much, yeah," she said. "Once they find out we move around at night, they're off into the night. Or they sit cowering in the office, _then_ bolt out the door first chance they get."

"I wonder why," muttered Mike.

"Yeah, real mystery," she agreed with a smirk. "Of course, no one really believes them when they start screaming bloody murder about us and our 'free roaming' but the rumours are enough that hiring anyone permanent is kinda difficult. So yeah, well done again for sticking around."

"Uh, thanks," Mike said unsurely. "Do the uh, the rest of you move around then?"

"Yep, but you won't be meeting them just yet. See, in the past, we'd all surprise the new guy at once. Since all of us jumping out of the dark at once is a bit much, we decided it would be better if they met us one at a time each night they're here." She plonked on the security desk, swinging her legs around. "Tonight, you're with me and any questions you wanna ask about behind the scenes until six, I'm your bunny."

Mike had to admit that if three, let alone one, of them had come by to 'greet' him as Bonnie had, he'd have followed in his predecessor's footsteps. Quite literally. Even then, the only reason he hadn't left was because he'd fainte… uh, passed out.

Still, so far, he was still breathing and this job could be a lot worse. At least he had someone to talk to. If nothing else, he needed this job and he couldn't afford to quit.

"Okay. Questions then." He picked one out of the multitude. "Um… how did you do that? With the robot skeleton?"

"Easy. Remote control." She snickered. "Relax, it can't move on its own. It's just a prop, spare parts. I was just controlling it from the shadows, then I tailed you back to your office. Gotta admit, it really sold the fear factor."

"Uh, I guess," he shivered. "Next question then. Um… why do you have rabbit ears?"

"I was born with them." She moved them around to demonstrate. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Right. Um, how?"

"That's kind of hard to explain," she said sheepishly. "Can we come back to that one another time?"

"I suppose. Why didn't Mr Johnson tell me about this?"

Bonnie laughed again. "Think, Mikey! Can I call you that?"

"Uh-"

"Super. Anyway, Mikey, if he had told you that at night, we get up and wander around and your job was to make sure we don't go anywhere when we do, would you have believed him?"

Mike considered the argument. "I uh, I guess not. But wait, then what about the rumours? I mean uh, I heard about this place from my friend and he uh…"

"Which one was it?" she asked, again with a little smirk. "The one about this place being haunted or that it's being used as the base of a serial killer?"

"N-none of those!" he said quickly. "Just that this place had a lot of stories surrounding it, that's all. Wait, serial k-k-killer?"

"That's one of my personal favourites. Keeps anyone from breaking in and if they try… boo!" she shouted, barking out a laugh. "But no, no killers here. Unless you count Freddy's jokes. It's all just spawned from the first guy who worked here. People talk, what can you do?"

"But um… none of them are true?" he dared to ask.

"Actually, there is one." A sinister look shadowed her face. "I lied about the guards. They didn't leave. They're here with us, right now. We hunt them down at night, drag them from the security office by their shirt collars while they beg for mercy and stuff them into the suits until their eyes pop out of the front and their broken teeth sprinkle all over the floor. And guess what, Mikey? You're next!"

Mike stared in abject horror and started to scramble back… until she burst out laughing again.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Your FACE!" she guffawed. "Oh, you are just too precious, Mikey!"

Mike didn't manage to respond. He was too busy trying to make sure he was breathing stably. Bonnie watched and waited.

"Better?" she asked, when he was breathing normally.

"Mostly," he replied glumly.

"I really was just messing with you, you know?" she added. "I'm not gonna do anything to hurt you, nor are the others. Promise."

"R-really…?"

"Yep. Scaring the crap out of you is way more fun," she grinned.

"Great. So uh, what's with all of this?" Mike gestured to the pieces of the suit on the floor. "Why were you dressed like that?"

"Part of the job," she shrugged. "During the day, it's the rules of the restaurant for all animatronics to keep their suits on while the restaurant's doors are open."

"But… you're not an animatronic," he noted. "You're a human, I can see. So, why the suits?"

"Why indeed," she murmured. "Look uh, that's a complicated kind of answer."

"How?"

"I can't explain. Not right now and I'm not sure I'm the one who should," she said cryptically. "Ask me some other time. For now, let's say that's rule and leave it at that. Okay?"

Mike would have asked again, but the look on Bonnie's face told him she wasn't going to answer. Not with what he wanted anyway.

"Okay then. Um, what about the others? What are they like?"

"Oh, they're all great!" she said brightly. "Chica's a real sweetheart, you'll like her. She's a little shy with new people, but she'll warm to you. Absolutely loves kids though. I mean, we all do, but she'd be their mother if she could."

"She does sound nice," he agreed.

"She really is. Freddy is…" She paused for a moment. "Well, there's kind of two sides of him. There's the Freddy who acts on stage for the kids. He's a complete goof but a real friendly guy. Likes to think he's a comedian but trust me, he's the only one."

"And the other side of him?"

"More sophisticated, I guess you could say," she said. "He's the one who prefers to chill backstage, reading books or comics that employees or kids have left behind. He'll get the lay of you from me and Chica before he decides whether or not he wants to meet you. So, better make a good impression."

"I'll uh, bear that in mind."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Was that a pun?"

"Huh?" Mike realised what she meant. "Uh, I guess it was."

"Oh, boy," she said, rolling her eyes. "You two will get on fine then."

"So, that's everyone?" he asked.

"Yep, pretty much. Well, except for…" For a moment, a shadow of anger passed over her face but it came and went so fast, Mike wasn't even sure he saw it. "Eh, never mind. Doesn't matter. So, how about I show you around the joint?"

"Uh, sure," agreed Mike. "I mean, I've seen on the monitors and stuff…"

"Oh, that's nothing compared to seeing it properly." She hopped off the desk and out the right side door. Mike followed behind her as she began her tour. "Welcome again to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Built in 1970, it was the dream of the original Mr Fredrick Fazbear to entertain and delight young children with the capers and joy of friendly animal characters while enjoying a slice of steaming hot pizza. The Pizzeria was the realisation of that awesome dream along with the equally awesome characters that have entertained children for years after.

"Then, in 1981… hey, are you checking me out?" she asked suddenly.

"N-no!" Mike said quickly, diverting his eyes up. "I just um, I-I I didn't s-see your um… your tail before."

Bonnie glanced down at the puffy little rabbit's tail poking out of her clothes. She smirked and wiggled her rump a bit.

"Okay, I'll let you off this time," she said slyly. "Don't let me catch you staring there again, got it?"

"Y-yes ma'am."

"Good boy. As I was saying," she continued, "in 1981, the eccentric Mr Fazbear mysteriously vanished, leaving only notice that he left his trusted vice manager, one Aaron Johnson, in charge of the restaurant. Where did he go? What happened to him? Noooobody knows," she said, affecting a spooky voice. "But the restaurant continued to rake in cash and kids, until recently when it has suffered a bit of financial crisis."

"Why?" asked Mike, trying to take it all in.

"Eh, legal things. I won't bore you with the details," she shrugged. "Now then, on your left we have the storage closet and your right, there's the break room…"

Mike simply listened and followed Bonnie around the restaurant. She led him to the party area, lined with long tables set with pointed, colourful party hats. On the stage were two empty suits of whom he presumed were Chica and Freddy. Their arms hung limp and their heads lolled as if drunk, their eyes devoid of life.

"They'll be doing their own thing," informed Bonnie. "Freddy's hanging around backstage-" She gestured to a door off stage right, "-and our Chica is working her magic in the kitchen."

Mike could hear the sound of pots and pans clanging around behind the doors in the kitchen. A delicious aroma was wafting from it and it made his mouth water. Bonnie caught the look on his face and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"In time, newbie," she promised, smirking.

While she led him along to the East Hall, Mike happened to glance at a star covered purple curtain over in the corner of the restaurant, far away from the stage. He had noticed it before while cycling through the monitors but hadn't given it much attention. They shut tightly and a sign that read 'Sorry! Out of order!' was posted in front of it.

"What's behind that?" he asked his guide.

Bonnie stopped and her expression hardened when she saw what he meant.

"Nothing," she answered sharply.

"But how come?" he persisted. "What's behind there?"

"Something out of order," she snapped. "Look, want my advice? Stay outta that curtain. Trust me, it's for the best."

Mike was so taken aback at the tone of anger that managed to came into her voice that he desisted from asking. Still, his eyes lingered on the curtain a little longer before he tailed after Bonnie.

They circled back to the security room down the East Hall, Bonnie directing him to the bathrooms as they went and turned to face him.

"Aaand that's all you need to know about Freddy's," she concluded. "Any other questions?"

"Um, other than ones you won't answer?" Mike tried.

"Other than them." She grimaced sympathetically. "Sorry, Mikey. You just gotta be here a little longer before we let you know all the little details."

"Right…"

"Hey, if it means anything, it's nothing personal," she assured. "We just need to know we can trust you first and you're not gonna run out on us. That's what friends do, right?"

There was something about the way she said those words that made something warm rise in Mike. Something pleasant. Something he hadn't felt in a long time and actually brought on a little smile.

"I uh, I guess you're right," he agreed. "Sorry, Bonnie, I um, I didn't mean anything by that. I understand."

"Atta boy and hey, no problem," she said lightly. "I think we're gonna be alright."

"I hope so." He checked his watch. "Wow, 5:45. Time sure does fly."

"Oh crap, is that the time?!" Bonnie frantically grabbed pieces of her suit and fumbled to put them on. "Doors open in a bit! I gotta get ready and be back on stage with the others before they do!"

"H-hold on Bonnie, calm down," Mike placated. "You um… you want some help with your suit?"

"Well, aren't you a gentleman?" she smiled. "Suit me up then, Jarvis."

It was a little weird for Mike. He tried to help with her suit in such a way that he wasn't placing his hands on anything… private. Bonnie either didn't notice because she was too busy getting dressed or she just didn't care. Either way, Mike was grateful she didn't say anything if he did give her an accidental brush. The burning in his face was enough to deal with without her teasing him too.

With the two of them working together, Bonnie was re-suited inside five minutes, with another five to go before 6 AM.

"There you go," Mike said, fixing the latch on her head.

"Is my head on straight?" she asked, shifting it a little.

"Um, I guess."

"Awesome." She turned around and struck a pose. "How do I look?"

"Uh… nice?" Mike said unsurely.

"Now, Mikey, be honest."

"Uh, um," he stammered, "k-kinda creepy…"

"That's better," she said approvingly. "Well, nice meeting you, Mikey, but I got a show to do. See you tomorrow night!"

Her heavy, metal feet clomped off back to the stage. Mike watched her go, heard the faint sounds of what seemed to be her bandmates talking in low voices and left the restaurant. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon.

That was just night one. Just what the hell did the rest of the week have in store for him? And why was he kind of looking forward to finding out?


	4. The Morning After

Before the main event, I'm going to take the time to answer questions about the story that won't really be addressed otherwise.

LoneWolf218: The only purpose of the security doors is as Mr Johnson said: to provide protection from intruders while they call the police from inside. It's not to keep the animatrons out in this.

Depicable Kiwii: They are human with animal parts.

Thank you for reviewing and I hope you continue to follow it.

**The Morning After**

Despite the fact his eyelids were on the verge of leaving him asleep in his chair by the six rolled around, Mike continued to wait in his office as the workers began to arrive. He could see their barely concealed looks of surprise and excited murmuring about the fact he was still here. Mike did his best to ignore them.

There was one good thing that came out of it though. One of the cooks came by with a pizza for him. The man set it on Mike's desk, gave him an encouraging smile and got back to work. Mike wasn't complaining though. Not exactly a nutritious breakfast, but he'd take it. It wasn't half bad either.

It wasn't long before he heard the voice of Mr Johnson making his way upstairs. Mike waited for a bit before heading up, taking a little satisfaction from Mel's stunned expression when he approached the door and knocked.

"Who the devil…?" His annoyed expression lifted when he saw Mike. "Mike, lad! Good to see you're still with us! I knew you had a knack for this job!"

"Thank you, sir," Mike said, sounding as stern as he could. "I'll admit, last night was p-pretty interesting."

Mr Johnson's eyebrow raised. "Oh really?"

"Y-yes. A lot of _surprises_, if you know what I mean," Mike said pointedly. "From things I wasn't really told about."

Mr Johnson held Mike in a steely gaze for a few moments. At first, Mike thought he had gone too far. Then, the manager smiled a sad sort of smile.

"Mel, can you hold all my calls? I'm going to pop out with our newest addition for a bit." He placed an arm around Mike in a fatherly way. "Walk with me, lad."

Mike silently complied and let Mr Johnson lead him outside. Groups of kids flocked in the dining area, voicing their cheer at Freddy and his band. Mike lifted his head a little at the sound of Bonnie's tinny voice and couldn't help but wonder how she was doing. How the kids would react if they saw who she was under that suit.

They walked out into the early morning sun. Cars and people went by along the road, towards their normal jobs in their normal lives. Mr Johnson walked out in front of Mike and turned to face him.

"Right then, lad," he began. "You probably have a few questions. I'll answer what I can. The fact you stayed after the first night, I think I owe you that."

"Thank you, sir." He was relieved at how calm he was about this, despite the sense of deja vu. "You know then? What they are?"

"One of the few who do, Mike," he admitted. "It's a very closely kept secret and for good reason."

"But why, sir? What exactly are they? And why hide them, disguise them as animatronics?"

"I'm afraid I can't divulge that yet, lad," he replied morosely. "It's best if we know we can trust you can completely first."

"Yeah, Bonnie said pretty much the same," remembered Mike.

"Oh, so it was Bonnie you met first, eh?" He chortled heartily. "Ooh, she's a mischievous devil that one. Best have your wits about you with her, lad. Years since this place opened and I still end up falling for one of her tricks."

"I got that," Mike said with a small laugh. "You really seem fond of them, sir."

"It's hard not to be, Mike. You could travel the whole of this planet and I doubt you'll ever find any group quite like Freddy and his friends," he said proudly. "I, for one, consider myself extremely privileged that I do."

"So… they're fine?" Mike asked. "They're not… dangerous?"

"Only as dangerous as any human might be," answered Mr Johnson. "I told you yesterday, lad. You take care of them and they'll take care of you."

"Yes sir, I remember," nodded Mike. "It must be hard, keeping the knowledge secret."

He nodded solemnly. "It is. We've had some little slip-ups, a few awkward questions, but we always manage to convince them otherwise."

"What about those other guards?" asked Mike. "The ones who ran away?"

"We make sure they know to keep quiet. In the contract you and they signed, the state of the animatronics is a company secret, one that they're legally bound to keep quiet," he said wisely. "If they try and give away company secrets, our lawyers will be on them faster than a fox on an injured rabbit. They don't try anything lad, believe me."

"What about the internet? Stories they might tell? It's hard to keep a secret these days," Mike noted.

"True lad, but I know a few people who work to make sure that they're just received as a bunch of raving lunatics with a scary story," he said, tapping his nose. "In the end, that's all they become: scary stories. And everyone likes a good ghost story, even if they don't believe 'em."

"Maybe if you'd given the other guards some kind of warning, they wouldn't have left," Mike suggested.

He chortled again. "And would they have even begun to believe me, lad? Would you have?"

Mike considered the question briefly. "I um, I don't think so, sir. Bonnie said that too, actually."

"Probably might have heard me say it once before," he chuckled. "Keen ears, that lass. Being a rabbit and what-not."

"Can I ask you something, sir?"

"You're already asking, lad. But feel free to ask some more," he said.

"How many security guards have you had?"

He sighed. "Six, I'd say. Maybe seven. Time was, we only ever had one. Good at his job, knew the secret of this place, was even friends with 'em. Then we had a… well, a nasty incident, let's say and for a long time afterward the position was considered cursed. Bad luck, they said to work at Freddy's on the night shift. We tried to fill the position, but no one wanted it. Couldn't blame 'em, really. At first, I was keen to just leave the position empty. Saved a little money and the gang could look after themselves without a babysitter."

"They seem like they could," agreed Mike. "What changed?"

"They did," he replied. "As time went by, the three of 'em started to get lonesome. They had a constant friend at night and now, they were on their own again. Oh, they were fine for a time, but gradually they started to push me to find a new guard. Finally, I started placing advertisements in the paper saying we were hiring. Had a few eager beavers for the job, but they didn't stay very long and after the stories started to spring up again, the applicants trailed off once more."

"How long ago was this?"

"A year, give or take," Mr Johnson shrugged. "Even when I added the five nights paragraph to the contract, they were still determined to act in any way they could to leave the job once they had their first night. All the rumours and stories, don't really blame 'em. I'd really given up hope we'd ever find someone permanent. I am hoping you will be, Mike."

Mike nodded absently. He just had a thought that maybe that was why she was the first to introduce herself. She had heard his conversation with Mr Johnson yesterday. But her hearing couldn't be that good… could it?

"It's a bit nippy, isn't it?" Mr Johnson shivered. "Let's head back inside, lad."

Mike didn't think it was that cold. Maybe a little crisp, but not that bad. But he followed silently. He had an idea that Mr Johnson wanted to make some kind of point. He was proven right when they re-entered the dining room.

The gang must have just finished playing a song because they were taking their bows on stage while the children clapped. Mr Johnson was smiling at them fondly while Mike cast his eyes to the other two. Chica and Freddy. What were they like? When would he meet them? He put those questions aside when Mr Johnson addressed him again.

"Always a marvel, seeing them at work." He glanced at Mike. "You like them then?"

"Well, their songs are a little corny. Kind of catchy though," Mike admitted.

"You know what I mean by that, lad."

Mike considered the question. Bonnie had deliberately scared him and seemed to enjoy messing around with him, as Mr Johnson had said. But he hadn't exactly hated spending time with her. Despite her pranking, she was friendly, upbeat, and confident and… she'd called herself Mike's friend. His _friend_.

It was a little weird she had rabbit ears. It was a little frustrating her and Mr Johnson were withholding information. It was aggravating that she had pranked him as she had. But none of that really seemed to matter all that much when he remembered she saw him as a friend.

"Yes, sir. I do," he answered honestly. "I mean, so far."

"Don't worry, lad," the manager assured. "Bonnie's the worst one and even then, I use that word loosely. Now you know, you'll warm nicely to the others. Trust me on that."

"Hope so. It's funny, actually," Mike murmured. "My dad was actually a security guard too. Night watchman, I mean. My mom told me."

"That so?" Mr Johnson asked with interest. "Where'd he work?"

"She never told me," Mike shrugged. "All I know is that it was because of that job that he's in the state he's in now."

"And what state would that be?" Concern was laced in his tone.

"I um… I'd rather not talk about it, sir," Mike murmured. "It's um… it's hard, really."

"Of course," he nodded. "I understand, lad. Didn't mean to pry."

"It's fine, sir." Mike blinked his tears away. "I just think that, now I have this job too… he'd be proud of me, you know?"

"I'm sure he would be, lad," Mr Johnson agreed. "I'm sure…"

The tone in his voice made Mike turn. Mr Johnson's expression was almost pained, like he was remembering some great tragedy. He was going to ask, when the man wiped it off his face and replaced it with a smile.

"'Course he would be. Son following in his old man's footsteps. I would be," he said encouragingly. "Now, any other questions, lad?"

Mike thought for a moment, looking around. His eyes fell on the star covered curtain in the corner. Even in the brightly lit room, it was kept mostly in the dark.

"Actually, sir, yes… what's behind the curtain? The out of order one?" he clarified, pointing to it.

Once again, he was hit with a sense of déjà vu when Mr Johnson's expression changed. Unlike Bonnie, who looked angry about it, he just looked… sad.

"I think it's best they be the ones to tell you," Mr Johnson replied. "Let's just say that, for those three, what's behind there is very personal. Sure you understand."

"Of course, sir," Mike said, biting down more frustration. Still keeping secrets.

"It's good of you to do this, Mike," he said sincerely. "Something tells me you're just what they're looking for."

"How do you mean, sir?" Mike asked.

He laughed a bit. "Why, in a friend, lad! It's about time they had someone else to see what was under the suits. Or rather, who is under them, eh? Now, you best go home and get some sleep, Mike. You'll need it."

He patted Mike on the shoulder and headed back to his office. Mike remained in the doorway of the dining area, looking out at Freddy and his band. They were playing another song, moving around in that jerky way they did to keep up the act. Considering how fluid Bonnie's movements had been out of her suit, Mike was really amazed they could manage to pull it off.

The rabbit in question rotated in his direction. For a few seconds, she was looking at him. Her eye flicked in a brief wink before she turned the other way and continued her performance. Mike couldn't help but smile a little.

Now that he knew what was underneath that suit… she didn't look so creepy anymore.


	5. Count Your Chickens

**Count Your Chickens**

It was both a sense of excitement and dread that took Mike when he began his second night at Freddy's. Now he knew the nature of the so-called animatronics, Mike kind of felt better about it. At least they weren't going to try and kill him.

On the other hand, he didn't like that they were keeping so much from him. Both Mr Johnson and Bonnie. They looked human, but why did they apparently have parts of animals? Why was it that the pizzeria was their only home? Why weren't they allowed to leave? Why were they hidden under the guise of being animatronics?

Mike could understand, of course. Given how many other guards had run out on their first night without even seeing who they were under the suits, they must have found it some kind of miracle he hadn't done likewise. They were being careful with exactly how much they could trust him, to see if he would stay on.

But he still didn't like it. He felt like he was being wrapped up in some weird conspiracy. Like they were a race of aliens and this was the frontline of an invasion, pretending to be benign to trick him. Or they were some kind of science experiment being covered up by government officials.

Well, at least they were friendly.

A quick glance at the monitors showed him that two of the characters were off the stage. One of them, he discovered from the other monitors, was bouncing down the West Hall to the security office.

"Mikey!" Bonnie bounded around the door. "Welcome back, man!"

"Uh, hey, Bonnie," he greeted unsurely.

He was talking to a rabbit woman. This was going to be his life for the rest of this week. Why was he so okay with that?

Probably because she's the first person to give you a smile and a hello for years, he thought. She had rabbit ears and a rabbit tail and he was okay with that. How had he ended up like this?

"Here's your coffee." She plunked a cup on his desk. "Black, two sugars, yeah?"

He blinked in surprise. "How did you know?"

"I saw when I was stalking you last night," she shrugged. "And I mean that in the least creepy sense possible, I swear."

"Sure…" He went to sip it, then stopped. "Bonnie, what did you put in this?"

"I told you. Two sugars," she repeated. "That's it, nothing else. Trust me." Her smile didn't falter under Mike's look. "Really, I swear, no more pranks. For a little while. I promise, I didn't put anything in that coffee."

Watching her warily, lifting the cup to his lips. It tasted normal, anyway. He took a longer draft from it, relishing the caffeine rushing through his system.

"Well, apart from the laxative." In a spray and splutter, out the coffee went, accompanied with Bonnie's laughing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she said between laughs. "That was just messing, that's it! There's nothing in that, except the sugar!"

Mike wiped his mouth and glared at her. "Do you know how hard it is to trust your word on that?"

"I've been told," she winked. She punched his shoulder. "I gotta say, I like you, Mikey."

"What would you do if you didn't?" he murmured.

"Trust me." She leaned in to whisper. "You don't wanna know."

Her tone sent a bit of a chill down his spine. He waited for her to say that she was just kidding, but nothing was forthcoming. He made a mental note to keep on her good side.

"Hey, I actually wanted to ask you last night but it kinda slipped. Have we ever met before?" she asked, cocking her head.

Mike shook his head. "No way. I'd have remembered."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she smirked. "It's probably nothing, just you like kinda familiar to me for some reason. Like I've seen you before."

"I doubt it," Mike said, perplexed by her behaviour. "I've never been here until last night. Is um, everything okay, Bonnie?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Just curious. But enough of that," she waved dismissively. "This is now your second night here. You've met me, but you've not met a very good friend of mine. She should be calling me into the kitchen right about…"

"Bonnie, can you come here please?" a soft voice called down the hall from the left.

"And there we go. Coming, Chica!" Bonnie replied. "Come on, Mikey."

If only because he was sure he'd be dragged there if he didn't comply, Mike rose from his chair and followed Bonnie out. So, he was about to make friends with another person who may or may not have some strange animal attribute. And again, he was okay with that?

He put that out of his mind for now and quickened his pace to keep up with Bonnie.

"So, Chica? I uh, think you mentioned her last night?"

"Hey, not just dust and cobwebs in there," she said, rapping his head. "Yep, my good buddy Chica. She's on the poster with me and Freddy."

He recalled his first time here and tried to remember correctly. "So, she's the… duck, right?"

"Okay, stop." Bonnie rounded on him with a serious look. "Let's get one thing straight before we go into that kitchen. Chica is not a duck. She's a chicken. Okay, repeat that."

"W-what?" he stammered.

"Repeat back to me what I just said."

"A-about Chica?"

"Yes, about Chica. Now, what did I say?" she repeated, sounding borderline angry now.

"Chicken, she's a chicken!" he squawked. "N-not a duck, a chicken!"

"Good," nodded Bonnie, softening her expression. "Sorry, it's best we straighten that out now. Chica is… she's sensitive, especially about that. Just make sure you remember, 'kay?"

"Right, of course," he said quickly. "B-but, why-?"

"It's not my place to say," cut off Bonnie. "If you don't trust me on anything else, then just trust me on this and remember the difference. To her, it matters. A lot."

Bonnie didn't elaborate on that. She carried on, with a little less of a spring than before. Mike gulped, repeating that like a mantra in his head and followed after her.

The clanking in the kitchen had grown louder by the time they got there. A glance up showed him a security camera, the one the monitor claimed was malfunctioning and only had audio. It looked as if it had been smashed with something heavy.

"She doesn't like being spied on when she's working in here," Bonnie answered his unspoken question. "Management got the camera fixed about three times before they learned to just leave it alone."

"Why?" asked Mike.

"Some artists prefer to work in privacy and trust me, if you've ever tasted Chica's pizza, you'll know what _exactly_ I'm talking about," she said, with a tone of reverence on her voice.

He laughed a little. "You call her pizza art?"

"When you come up with a better word, let me know. If you get lucky enough that she'll let you taste it. And speaking of herself," she noted, as a figure came over to meet them.

He recognised her now from the poster. The chicken, not the duck, the chicken. She had already discarded her suit, revealing the pearly glow of her pale skin. Her hair was light blonde and cut short in a neat little bob, apart from three tufts sticking from the top. She wore a yellow skirt with white polka dots, like the sort a fifties housewife would wear. Upon this she wore a frilled white apron that she was now tying up, covered in grease stains and tomato sauce with the legend 'Let's eat!' emblazoned on it.

Looking at her hair, Mike could see a it was a mix of hair and feathers and the tufts were a few of them. A few stuck out at her rear, making a kind of tail. He made sure not to linger on that like he had with Bonnie's tail.

She placed her hands on her hips, cocked her legs coloured with orange tights and tapped her orange high-heeled shoe expectantly. It was almost like a mother confronting a badly behaved child. Mike hung back behind Bonnie while Chica approached her.

"Bonnie, I did a little count last night of soda and cupcakes, but tonight I come here and see that both are off by one." Though her voice did have some sternness to it, it was so gentle that it barely made a difference. "Would you happen to know anything about that?"

"Guilty as charged, Cheeks," Bonnie admitted. "I would have told you, but it was kind of an emergency."

"I hardly think you wanting a late night snack qualifies as an emergency," she countered. "Bonnie, I'm always patient with you, but I do have my limits…"

"Cheeks, come on! The new guy had fainted, nothing to do with me by the way, and he needed something to perk him up," Bonnie redressed hurriedly. "I figured one of your cupcakes would do him the world of good!"

"'New guy?'" she questioned. "I wasn't aware there was any…"

Her eyes drifted behind Bonnie and found Mike. He waved nervously. As soon as she saw him, her whole demeanour changed. Her composure vanished and her hands flew to her mouth. She took a few steps back, staring in shock. She tried to speak, but her words were a confused mess and he could have sworn her cheeks were... pale blue? They blushed blue?

He put that aside for now. Aren't these reactions backwards, Mike thought. Bonnie shook her head and held up her finger to indicate Mike to give her a second. She approached her jittery friend, placed an arm around her and turned her away.

"Relax girl, breath, just calm down," she soothed in a low voice.

"Calm down?! How can I be calm?! You never told me there was a new night guard!" Chica whispered frantically.

"I wanted to try and ease him into meeting us," Bonnie explained. "Not like the last ones, you know? One at a time intros without the suits so no one freaks out. We talked about this."

"You still could have said something to me!" she hissed. "I didn't know it was my turn tonight!"

"I wanted it to be a surprise!"

"You know I hate surprises like this!" she snapped back. "Oh goodness, if I'd known… is my dress okay? How's my hair? Do I smell bad? Oh, what he must think of me…!"

"You look like a dream, now go knock him dead." With that, Bonnie spun her around and pushed her towards Mike.

Chica froze again and glanced back at her friend. Bonnie gave her an encouraging smile, ushering her forward with her hands. Mike just watched as she turned back around, appeared to collect herself and put on a smile.

"H-h-hello, um… new guy," she stuttered. "I mean um, I know that isn't your name. Of course it isn't, no! J-j-just I didn't ask and uh, oh dear, that was so rude. I-I-I was going to ask, but I… I… I…!"

"Mike." He offered her his hand and a sympathetic smile. "My name's Mike Schmidt. Nice to meet you, Chica."

"Oh, um…" She appeared a little taken aback, but her smile looked less nervous as she shook his hand. "N-nice to meet you too, Mike. I'm Chica. But uh, you already know that, of course."

"Yeah…"

When it came to social stuff, you could find someone a hell of a lot better than Michael Schmidt. Usually, he was the one stammering like an idiot and falling over his words. But the fact the roles were reversed in Chica's case allowed him to call on some sort of confidence. Not much, but some.

"I uh, like your dress," he complimented awkwardly. "It's very um… very yellow."

Behind Chica, he saw Bonnie slap her palm to her face. Chcia, however, blushed even brighter and fiddled with her dress a little.

"Oh, this silly old thing?" she asked. "It's nothing special, really. I um, have a million more like them and uh, this one's seen better days. Honestly, if I'd known I'd be meeting you tonight, I'd um… I'd have worn something um…"

"No, no, it's fine!" he insisted. "I like it. It, uh, really suits you. Brings out the colour of your, uh, hair. A-and your feathers."

Her eyes fluttered a bit. "You… you really think so?"

He nodded vigorously, wondering how in the name of sanity he'd gotten to complimenting a chicken on the dress it was wearing seem like it was normal.

Chica held no such mental qualms. To his surprise, she giggled a little and even did a small twirl.

"Well… thank you, Mike. That's um, very sweet of you to say so," she said sincerely. "I like your, um, shirt. The blue is um… well, it's very uh… blue."

"Uh, thanks." He glanced down and shrugged. "I mean, it is my uniform but you, uh, can do a lot worse than blue."

"I s-suppose we both came here in our work clothes then," she noted nervously. "N-not that I mind, of course. I mean, you're at work, I live and work here, I don't really have any other clothes so um… yes."

"Alrighty then." Bonnie's voice made them both jump. "I see you kids are having fun. So, I am gonna go jam for a bit while you two make nice."

"No!" Chica blushed at how loud she sounded. "I mean, um, you don't have to go."

"It's fine. I had Mikey all to myself last night, so now you get to look after him." She pulled in to whisper. "It'll be fine. He really seems like a nice guy. Come on, Cheeks! Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Would you like a list?" grumbled Chica.

"Consider this an exception then," Bonnie bolstered. "You'll be fine. Trust me."

She patted Chica on the back, gave Mike a thumbs up and bounded off. Chica fiddled with her fingers watching her go and took a few deep breaths. She turned to Mike with a nervous smile, still fiddling.

"So… you're with me tonight then?" she asked.

"It looks like it," agreed Mike.

Silence followed. Even though she was way shyer than most girls he ended up talking to, Mike was still at a loss of what to say now. Bonnie had done most of the talking last night, but it didn't look like Chica was going to be the same. Not without some prompting.

"Well er…" Mike desperately searched around for something to talk about. "Um… nice kitchen."

Almost immediately, he mentally slapped himself for saying something so stupid. Chica didn't seem to notice, her smile brightening a little.

"Oh, you think so?" She sighed. "The cooks can leave this place in such a state when they're done, so it falls to me to clean up their mess. N-nothing against them, of course," she added quickly. "I don't really mind. Keeps me busy at night. Along with making pizzas, of course."

"That's fine then. So um, you like making pizzas?" he tried, glad to have got her talking.

"Oh yes!" she said eagerly. "Not just that, but cooking in general. I dabble in the restaurant's food, cupcakes and such, but pizza's my first love, as it were. I was um, just about to start making it. You can stay and watch, if you like. I-I can still talk while I work."

"Sure," prompted Mike. "Don't let me stop you."

"Thank you. I just didn't want you to think I was being rude."

With a bright little smile, Chica began to gather ingredients. Soon enough, a mixing bowl, yeast, flour, cheese, tomato sauce, water and other such items were gathered before her. Mike raised an eyebrow as she placed the yeast, salt and flour into a bowl.

"Don't you have any premade pizza bases?" he asked.

"Oh, we do," she nodded, beginning to mix them together. "But I prefer to make everything from scratch. It takes a longer time to make, but the difference is very, very noticeable."

Mike nodded in agreement. "But you can't have that much time to make many of them, can you?"

"Sadly, no," she replied, adding olive oil and milk to the mix. "I think I have enough here to make at least two large ones. The cooks don't leave much for me when they're done. I don't blame them, they do fine work but I wouldn't mind having a little more to work with."

"Mind if I ask you something then?"

"Of course," she said brightly.

"Um, why do you do it? If the restaurant has the cooks, I mean."

"I suppose there are two answers to that. Firstly because I enjoy it," she said simply. "Secondly, it's a little treat for the children. The pizzas I make, I place in a box with one of my feathers placed on it. If they're lucky, they'll be served one of my pizzas."

"Bonnie did say they were pretty good," recalled Mike.

"Well, I don't like to boast," she said humbly, "but I always put my heart and soul into these pizzas. I like to think it shows in the taste. The kids seem to think so and I take some pride in that."

"If that's the case, I definitely think you should," Mike said earnestly.

She blushed a little. "Thank you. So, why don't you tell me a little about yourself, Mike?" she asked, continuing to go about her work. "What do you like doing?"

"Well uh, apart from wasting time on the internet?" Mike laughed nervously. "I um, I read. I like a good TV show or movie. I uh, used to play video games but I had to trade them all in for money."

"That's a shame," she said. She was now kneading out the dough. "I see some of the children play with little handheld ones. They seem to enjoy them."

"They are pretty fun," agreed Mike, really missing his console now. "I also um, I do art."

"Oh really?" She seemed to take particular interest. "What kind?"

"Pencil sketches, mostly," he answered. "I mean, I did major in it and I have an account on the internet where people can commission for art they want."

"That's a lovely hobby to do and even better that you can get money from it," she praised. The dough was flattened and she had gotten to spreading the sauce, cheese and other toppings. "You must be very good at it."

"I'm fairly decent, yeah," Mike admitted. "It's fun, you know and um, I do earn a little extra."

"Well, I think it's wonderful to have a talent like that." She opened up the oven and slid the pizza inside. "I'd very much like to see some of your work sometime, Mike. If you'd be okay showing me, of course."

"Sure, if you want," Mike said happily. He always liked it when people wanted to see his art. "I only have the one pencil though. I ran out of colours last week and I can't really afford to buy more."

"That's absolutely fine," she assured. "I'm sure they'd be good regardless. I have to say, it's lovely having someone else to talk to. It's a shame about the other guards, but I'm happy you've decided to stay."

Mike blushed a bit. "Well um, Bonnie told me the others ran away."

"Yes, it's a shame that," she lamented. "They had no idea what to expect and in the dark, these suits can be rather… unsettling. Or so I've heard. At first, we kept them on to abide by company rules for the new guards at night. Then, when decided earlier to try and take them off in front of them, they took advantage of us being distracted and ran away anyway."

"Maybe they thought they were just going to end up seeing a creepy Terminator endoskeleton," remarked Mike.

"Perhaps. Still, it was a little rude and disheartening. Right, I think this one's ready." Very carefully, like it was a precious treasure, she placed it in a pizza box. "Now, the final touch." Wincing a little, she yanked a feather off her head and attached it to the box. "There. Now, some lucky child will get to taste that."

"I have to say, I'll be a little jealous of that kid," chuckled Mike.

Her face fell a little at his words.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mike. I'd offer you a slice of the pizza, but I'm afraid the cooks don't leave a whole of ingredients at the end of the day and I'm lucky if I even get to make two at all," she said sadly. "If I'd known I would be meeting you tonight, I'd have tried to gather more supplies. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Chica," assured Mike. "I just found out I get a special discount for this place, being the night guard. Maybe I'll end up with one of yours."

"I hope so. If not, tomorrow night, I'll make one just for you in exchange for one of your drawings," she promised. "How does that sound?"

He smiled. "That sounds great. Thanks a lot, Chica."

"It's my pleasure, Mike," she beamed. "I'm very glad to have met you."

Mike nodded faintly, another well of warmth sprouting within him. Now, he was content to just let Chica carry on while he watched, her melodic humming as sweet as any songbird and her smile as bright as any sun.


	6. Third Night's The Charm

For a part in this chapter, I advise those reading to slap this link into another tab and listen along for an idea of what song Bonnie is going to be playing.

watch?v=LqVqseRd9sg

**Third Night's the Charm**

Most of Mike's day after that night, when it wasn't spent sleeping, was working on the sketch for Chica. His pencil glided with ease over the paper as he transferred the image in his head to the drawing that was taking shape before him.

It wasn't just that there was a pizza in for him if he did, although his growling stomach certainly did do a lot to fuel his creative spirit. It had been quite a while since anyone had seen his work face to face, let alone someone who considered him a friend. He wanted to really see her face light up when she saw it.

His unabashedly talented hand and confidence that he had in his abilities ensured that Chica's sketch was done relatively quickly. Since he didn't have any colours that only expedited it. Even so, he felt rather bad he couldn't add any. He also made another one for Bonnie, as he didn't want her to feel like she was left out. He would have made one for Freddy, but since he hadn't met the bear yet, he had nothing to go off of.

Mike felt a sense of nervous anticipation at the thought. He just knew that tonight he was going to meet the big boss bear himself. Just what was he like? Bonnie was cool, if a little mischievous and Chica was kind of cute in a shy sort of way. But Freddy… he had no idea what to expect. Only hints from what he'd seen and heard.

Both Bonnie and Chica appeared to have a lot of respect for him and he remembered that Bonnie had told him Freddy had two sides to him. The side of him on stage reminded him a lot of Fozzy Bear from the Muppets: goofy, telling dumb jokes. In other words, perfect for the kids. But what about this other side? What would he be like?

He also remembered Bonnie said he would meet him once he'd heard from his bandmates about him. Was he judging Mike? Just how much influence did he have? What if he didn't like what he'd heard? What would he do then?

Mike tried to put the thoughts out of his mind. But the pit of worry in his stomach only worsened when he arrived at the restaurant for his third night. Freddy's suit was already empty, but Bonnie and Chica were just coming out of theirs. He stood back and waited until they were done, but they spotted him before that.

"Oh goodness!" Chica's hands flew to her chest and her face turned blue as the sea. "M-Mike! D-d-don't come in while we're changing!"

Mike's face was flushed too as he mumbled an apology and looked away hurriedly.

"Uh, Cheeks?" Bonnie's tone was of someone about to state the obvious. "You _do_ you know we're already wearing clothes under our suits, right?"

"O-oh… right." Chica looked even more mortified now. "S-sorry, Mike. Just um, just habit."

"It's uh, fine," Mike mumbled, glancing back at them. "I uh, guess I should have knocked."

"Don't worry about it, Mikey." Bonnie yanked off her head and shook her head, her ears springing up. "I don't blame you for wanting to catch two awesome ladies oh-natural. Pervert."

"It's… it's 'naturel', Bon," corrected Chica, removing the lower part of her suit so her dress cascaded down her legs. "Th-the phrase is 'au naturel' in French, I mean."

"Well, aren't you the naughty one?" winked Bonnie.

"B-Bon, please," Chica whispered, her face still bright red. "We h-have company."

"Eh, it's fine," waved away Bonnie. "Mike's enjoying himself listening, right Mikey? Ya stinkin' perv."

Mike was too embarrassed to respond to that. Even though they were wearing clothes, he found himself looking away completely until Bonnie told him it was okay to turn around. Then he waited until Chica said it was okay to look because he trusted her word more than Bonnie's.

"Wow. I think you might rival one of those dwarves from that weird fairy tale with how bashful you are, Mikey," sniggered Bonnie. "Maybe we should strip for you more often."

"U-uh… I…"

"I mean, first I catch you staring at my butt and tonight you walk in on me and Chica while we're changing?" She punched his arm. "You really are a perv, aren't you?"

"Bonnie, come now. Haven't you teased poor Mike enough tonight?" Chica asked. Mike felt a surge of gratitude for her.

Bonnie shook her head once. "Nope. Not even close. But at your behest, Momma Chica, I'll leave poor widdle Mikey alone. For now."

Chica rolled her eyes as Bonnie laughed. "Pay her no mind, Mike. I just forgot myself for a moment because I'm not used to anyone seeing us while we're getting out of our suits. We've been on our own for so many nights we never really had to worry about it."

"I-it's fine, Chica," he mumbled. "Everyone um, appreciates their privacy. Especially when… changing."

Chica giggled. "It was very gentlemanly of you to avert your eyes for a bit though. You didn't have to, but it was nice to see you made a little effort."

"No problem," Mike murmured, smiling a little at Chica's appreciative tone. He didn't happen to catch Bonnie's smirk.

They headed to the security office. Bonnie confirmed Mike's suspicions that Freddy would indeed be meeting him tonight.

"The big man's just gone to get a few things ready backstage," she explained. "When he's ready for you, he'll send for ya."

"R-right," Mike responded nervously.

"You don't have to worry about a thing, Mike," assured Chica. "Both Bonnie and I have told him many good things about you. If you just be yourself, as you were with us, you'll be absolutely fine."

Mike found himself calmed by Chica's assurances. Until Bonnie ruined it.

"Yeah. Unless he doesn't like you, in which case your head will be making friends with the nearest window."

"Bonnie!"

"I'm just kidding!" she said defensively. "Geez Louise, Cheeks. Yeah, you'll be fine, Mikey. Despite some pervy tendencies, I've let Freddy know that I think you're a heap of fun and we're glad to have you. Even if you're also kinda jittery."

"And I've told him that you're a very polite, respectable person and have the makings of a good friend," added Chica.

"R-really?" Mike was touched. "Y-you guys told him that?"

"Of course we did," Chica said. They all took seats in the office, Chica taking another chair while Bonnie took the desk. "Trust me, he's going to like you just as much as we do. Now, I think you have a little something for me."

Mike did his best to ignore Bonnie's snigger and pulled the two drawings out of his bag. He wordlessly handed them to the two women. One of Chica making pizza, the other Bonnie playing her guitar with some jagged musical notes for effect.

"Okay. Okay, wow." Bonnie's face had a grin plastered on it. "I gotta admit, that is pretty cool."

"Oh my goodness, look at that!" Chica's violet eyes examined every part of the sketch of herself with a steaming plate of pizza. "It looks so lifelike! Mike, this is fantastic work!"

Mike shrugged modestly. "Well, I wanted it to be good for you."

"Oh, you really are the sweetest," she praised glowingly. She pointed to the pizza her sketched self was holding. "Though I see you had something else on your mind while you were creating."

He laughed nervously under Chica's teasing smile and Bonnie's cocky smirk. The chicken woman giggled sweetly again and stood up.

"Well, I'd say you've earned it. You stay right there, I'll just go and pop it in the oven."

"This reminds me of how the kids give us drawings after our shows," remarked Bonnie, after Chica had left. "Seriously, this is your work?"

"Surprised?" Mike asked, taking a small opportunity to tease Bonnie.

"Um, yeah!" She was smiling though. "This is some really great work, Mike. Thanks!"

"My pleasure. I didn't want you to feel left out if it was just Chica getting a drawing," he said.

"And just for doing that Mikey, you earned yourself a little treat from me too." She hopped off the desk. "Since you were cool enough to share your talent with me, I'm gonna rock your world with mine."

"That sounds great," Mike said enthusiastically.

"Don't get excited, perv. It's not another strip show," she winked.

"I-I-I w-wasn't… I-I-I mean, I didn't-"

"I'm just yanking your chain, Mikey!" she laughed. "Seriously, you really are a skittsh guy, aren't you?"

Mike said nothing in response. He just mentally begged for his burning cheeks to die down as he followed Bonnie back into the dining area. He took a seat while she bounded back onto the stage, grabbed her guitar and hooked into a nearby amp. She slung it over her shoulder, tuned it a little bit and pulled a pick from her pocket.

"Looks like someone wants to get…" She raised the pick and flashed her signature smirk. "Funky."

She strummed the strings once, producing a long, resounding note. When she began to play, Mike felt his spine tingle as she strummed out a medium tempo of powerful notes, rising and falling in a basic rhythm. All the while, she had her eyes locked on Mike while she gripped her bass, completely in her element.

After about thirty seconds of the basic rhythm, she sped up the tempo in a set of quick fire notes. She even managed to jerk her guitar up and down without breaking the rhythm of her playing. It alternated between the two notes through out, suddenly changing from deep to light tones of bass, all without Bonnie so much as faltering.

The speed of her playing increased throughout, like she was providing the backing for a thrilling chase scene in a movie. Her fingers were a blur on the strings, almost blending in with the guitar itself. When her playing reached the crescendo, she played three, final long notes, all ending in another deep resounding tone that echoed around the dining area when it was over.

"Oh yeah!" she cried, fist pumping the air. "Don't get to play like that during the day!"

Mike was on his feet, applauding. "That was amazing, Bonnie!"

"I know, but thanks anyway," she said with a bow, unplugging her guitar and jumping off the stage. "That's why I'm the guitarist. Honestly, who else would you have?"

"Modest as always, Bon." A delicious smell accompanied Chica as she came out with Mike's pizza. "Here you go, Mike. One Chica Margarita Pizza. Enjoy! Be careful, it's fresh out of the oven and it's hot."

Deciding not to ask if that was meant to rhyme, Mike lead the way back to the security room and waited for it to cool. Chica almost looked apprehensive while she waited for Mike to take his first bite, while Bonnie eyed the pizza hungrily. Finally, Mike took a slice and eagerly bit into it.

The sensation that hit his taste buds actually made him chew the pizza for as long as he could before he had to swallow it.

"Chica, this… this is incredible!" he said with complete sincerity.

"Really? You like it?" she asked brightly.

"I'd say he does," Bonnie remarked, watching as Mike dug into another slice.

"That means a great deal to hear that, Mike. Thank you." Chica was positively aglow now. "Don't eat too fast though. I don't want you getting indigestion."

Within ten minutes, the last slice had disappeared down Mike's throat.

"Those guys who ran off would be really regretting doing so now," Mike said, licking his fingers.

"Their loss, your gain," Chica said.

"Mr Johnson was actually telling me about that today," noted Mike. "He told me about how you used to have a regular guard before all that though."

"Oh yeah, good old David Smith," recalled Bonnie. "He was a great guy too."

"He was," agreed Chica. "We did try to get along on our own after he left, but it just felt lacking at night here for so long. We're happy Aaron managed to fill the position, though we'll always miss David."

"We actually used to play a really awesome game with Davey when he was around," reminisced Bonnie. "It was kind of like Hide and Seek plus Red Light, Green Light, back for when we had more power for the night. Basically, me, Chica and Freddy would start from the stage. Then, one by one, we'd leave the stage and start moving around the restaurant. We had only one goal: reach the security room by any means necessary."

"Meanwhile, David would be watching us with the security monitor," Chica went on. "He would try and use the cameras to figure out where we are in the building, then try to stop us from reaching our goal. He could use the security doors to keep us out, but only if he thought we were right outside. If he tried to use them beforehand, it would count as forfeiting the game and we would win. It was really fun!"

"Yeah, even though you were always such a klutz," sniggered Bonnie. "Always knocking over pots and pans in the kitchen whenever you went through."

Chica flushed. "I-I just got so nervous when I played! I-it made me a little clumsy…"

"Probably why you never made it to the office very often," teased Bonnie. "Not like me. I was always like a ninja."

"Would a ninja get the door slammed in her face because she was more concerned about giving him a scare than getting in the office?" retorted Chica.

"I told you! That was all part of my plan so you could try and get in while he was distracted with me!" insisted Bonnie quickly, though her face was a little red.

"Freddy was always the best," said Chica. "He always knew exactly how to hide in the dark and keep quiet until the last minute."

"That sounds um… kind of dangerous," said Mike. "I mean, those doors are fast and they're made of metal. W-what if one of you tried to get in a-and he closed the door on top of you?"

"Aww. That's sweet of you to be concerned, Mike," Chica said warmly.

Mike blushed. "Well, um I just don't like the idea of you getting hurt."

"Well, you don't need to worry about that, Mikey. Observe." Bonnie stood in the doorway. "Now, try to close the door on me."

"W-what?! I'm not going to do that!" he yelled.

"Trust me, I'll be fine. Now go on, press the button," she prompted.

"No, Bonnie!"

"Bonnie, I think you should listen to Mike," Chica said, sounding worried.

"Oh, not you too," whined Bonnie. "You know what happens."

"Fine, I'll do it." Her hand went for the button.

"Bonnie, no!" cried Chica.

Before he could stop her, she slammed her hand on the button. All that happened was that it beeped but the door didn't close. Further pressing produced the same results.

"See? Still in one piece." She re-joined them. "You see, Mike, the doors are fitted with sensors so that if there's any kind of obstruction in the doorway, the doors won't close until it's removed."

"Thank god," murmured Mike, relieved for the rabbit woman.

"Even so, Bonnie, that was a very foolish thing to do," Chica said sternly, her voice still shaking a bit.

"Aw come on, Cheeks, I'm fine!" Bonnie insisted. "Calm down, I'm okay."

"Regardless, you shouldn't tempt fate like that. Your intentions can mean well but you can still get hurt…" Chica's expression shadowed and her hand went to her stomach.

Bonnie's expression immediately changed. "Oh geez, I'm… I'm sorry, Chica. I-I didn't mean to remind you of-"

"It's okay, Bon," she said gently. "Just… don't ever do anything like that again. Please?"

"You got it, bud," Bonnie promised, still looking a little guilty. "I'm uh, gonna go see if Freddy wants to meet Mike yet."

With a lot less enthusiasm than before, Bonnie walked off. Mike looked at Chica, who still looked visibly shaken. Her hand was pressed to her stomach and she looked close to terrified. She really had been that scared for her friend? Mike had been worried, yes, but she looked as if Bonnie announced she'd gone off to war.

"A-are you okay?" asked Mike unsurely.

"Hm? Oh yes. I'm fine, Mike," she said abruptly, forcing a smile. "Just being a worry wart, don't mind me."

"There's nothing wrong with being worried for a friend," Mike comforted. He tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder. When she didn't object to it, he gripped it gently. "I was a little scared for her too. You were right, that was pretty dumb what she did."

"I know, but… that's Bonnie for you," she sighed. "Always diving straight in without really thinking about if she'll either sink or swim."

"Is she always like that?" Mike asked.

"You have no idea," she giggled. "I remember this one time… no, I won't bore you with it."

"No, please. Go on," Mike insisted politely. "What do you remember?"

"Well… being part rabbit, she can jump to remarkable heights. And one day, she wanted to see just how high she could jump. Of course, we aren't allowed outside so she was stuck doing it inside." She shook her head exasperatedly, but there was still a smile. "I told her to be careful and not jump too high but, Bonnie being Bonnie, did the exact opposite. Add to that the fact that this place is very old, so the ceiling isn't in great shape and…"

Mike was grinning at the thought. "Don't tell me _that_ was what happened."

"Oh, it was." Chica was giggling like a school girl now. "She went right through the ceiling head first and she stayed there. It took all of us pulling on her legs to get her out. The state she was in when we got her down…"

"I can imagine," chuckled Mike. "Man, I wish I could have been there."

"She got such a telling off from Aaron the next day," Chica said. "It was quite costly to fix that ceiling and we didn't let her live it down for weeks after that. Even now, I still like to give her a little reminder. Her face still turns such a lovely shade of blue whenever I do."

"Maybe I should try it sometime," Mike pondered.

"If she ever gets on your case, it's worth a try. You know, Mike, this is really nice. Talking to you, I mean," she clarified. "It really is lovely."

That made Mike smile. "You think?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded. "It's really… well… can I tell you something, Mike? If you don't mind?"

"Go ahead," he prompted.

"Well… working here is wonderful, it really is. I love performing on the stage, my friends, seeing the children's faces light up with delight. Oh, there's really nothing like it, Mike. But…" She paused in her kneading. "It's… it's hard sometimes."

"In what way?" Mike asked.

"In that… entertaining the children is a joy, it really is, I wouldn't trade it for anything else. But… they'll never get to see me. The real me, I mean," she added. "The me under the suit. I want nothing more than to just pull it off and let them see who I really am. To just give them a real smile and a real hug. But… I can't. Our existence, our true nature, it has to be kept secret. They'll… they'll never see…"

She screwed up her eyes and looked away from Mike. He saw the faint shimmer of tears in her violet pools. She sniffed and wiped vigorously with her apron. Mike felt a stab of pity in his heart. Tentatively, he reached for her shoulder with his hand, but quickly withdrew when she turned back around.

"Sorry, s-s-sorry," she stammered, her voice quivering. "I'm being silly, don't mind me. I might not like it but… it's the way it has to be. It has to be. It's just it sometimes feels so… so…"

"Lonely." Chica looked to face Mike. She looked almost surprised. "It's not silly," Mike said softly. "I'm… I'm really sorry to hear that, Chica."

She sniffed again and gave Mike a warm smile that made him feel so light inside to see it. She wiped her eyes again.

"Thank you, Mike," she said sincerely. "It's hard, it really is. But it won't be so hard anymore. Because now we have you. Someone else who's finally going to see us for who we really are. Someone to talk to without the suits and just… be ourselves. In every way."

"I um, I dunno about that, Chica," he mumbled, blushing. "I mean, I'm just the night watch. Mr Johnson, h-h-he's been around a lot longer."

"Oh, Aaron is a good friend, yes. But he's often so busy these days we barely get to see him at night anymore," she said forlornly. "I know I was rather jittery when I saw you first tonight but… Mike, I… I really hope it's okay with you that… I can call you a… a friend."

The tone in her voice almost bordered on desperate hope. Like everything depended on whether or not Mike would accept her proposal. The look she gave him too when she gazed up from her kneaded dough… it practically made Mike start to cry too. Something that didn't go unnoticed by Chica.

"Oh dear. I-I-I was too forward, wasn't I?" Her face flushed. "S-s-sorry, Mike, I shouldn't be so-"

"I would." Chica stopped in her panic. Disbelief was etched on her face. "I'd… I'd really like to be your friend, Chica. If you want to be mine."

Chica stared for a few seconds. Then, her face broke out into the most radiant smile he'd ever seen. With a giggle of joy, she threw her arms around Mike. He was rather caught off guard, his breath forced out of him but he awkwardly returned it.

"I'd love to be your friend, Mike! Oh, this is just so wonderful! We're going to be…! Oh." She seemed to realise and quickly let go, blushing blue. "Sorry. I um… I don't know what came over me."

"It's fine," mumbled Mike, matching her blush. "I uh, I'm glad you're happy."

"I really am," she nodded. "I do hope we'll be good friends, Mike. You're very kind."

"Thanks," he muttered. "Uh, so are you."

"Ahem." They turned to see Bonnie standing in the door, smirking. "Not interrupting anything, am I?"

"N-no," Mike stammered. "So, um… is it time?"

"I dunno, Mikey. That depends." She let her voice drop to a sinister tone. "Are you ready for Freddy?"


	7. Bear With Me

**Bear With Me**

By the time he reached the door that led to backstage, Mike was shaking. Despite all the assurances from Bonnie and Chica that they'd only spoken the best of him and that he would be fine, that still didn't stop his apprehension mounting with every step he took.

Both Bonnie and Chica accompanied him, but they stopped either side of the door. The message was clear: Mike was meeting Freddy alone. But they both took notice of Mike's nervousness. Even Bonnie changed her smirk to a more understanding smile.

"Just keep your cool and it'll all go smoothly," she encouraged.

"W-w-would b-be fine i-if I had a-a-any cool t-t-to begin with," stammered Mike.

"You'll be absolutely fine, Mike," comforted Chica. "Just be yourself with him as you were with us. It'll be okay."

Bonnie opened the door and held it for him. "He's waiting for you. Good luck."

Mike took one last glance at their reassuring expressions, gulped and stepped inside. He stiffened when Bonnie shut the door behind him.

He couldn't make out much of the detail for this room. The lights had been dimmed in here to some great extreme, enshrouding the room in almost total darkness. The only thing close to him was a door exiting and entering stage left. As his eyes began to adjust, he could make out a small table with an empty chair facing a silhouette in the dark.

He could barely make out the other sitting figure. It appeared to be rather tall, with something growing out of its head… wait that was a top hat. Its face seemed quite hairy. Light reflected off a pair of round glasses. A pair of piercing blue eyes held him in their gaze.

"Hope ya don't mind the lack of light in here." A soft spoken voice with a Southern drawl came out of the dark. "I prefer the dark, if it's all the same with you, son."

Mike took a minute to find his voice. "Y-y-yes, sir. I-I-I mean… that's f-f-fine, sir."

"Hm." The figure was silent a moment. "Actually, you could do with a lil' more illumination. I forget not everyone has our heightened senses. Here."

He reached over to the light source, a small electric lamp on the table and turned a knob. The light intensified moderately, allowing Mike to get a good look at the figure in the chair.

Mike was met with the face of a middle aging man who looked like he could be somebody's father, bordering on grandfather. Enough lines to indicate age, but not so much to make him appear too elderly. He had high cheekbones and a strong jawline, lending an idea of strength as well as wisdom. A rich brown moustache bristled on his face, along with heavy sideburns and a head of neatly combed hair underneath a fancy top hat.

His clothes matched the air of sophistication he exuded. A smart-pressed black jacket, with a white shirt and a black bowtie. His pants matched his jacket. He was large, but more in a stocky than an overweight sense. His chest was broad and his arms were thick. As for animal features, Mike could see a pair of rounded bear's ears on his head and he would bet money that he was sitting on a bear's tail too.

It made Mike think of a high society gentleman who took part in boxing as a pastime. All he needed was a newspaper and a smoking pipe to complete the image. Quite different from the goof he appeared to be when performing for the kids.

"Well, son, aren't you gonna sit down?" he invited. "I didn't put an extra chair there for nothin', you know."

"Y-y-yes, sir. Thank you, s-s-sir," Mike stammered, hurrying to comply.

Freddy leaned back in his chair a little and a small smile raised the corners of his moustache.

"Well, well, well. Michael Schmidt. Good to finally meet you, face to face." He held out a large hand. "Freddy Fazbear, lead singer of the Fazbear band and resident of this fine establishment, at your service."

"G-good to m-meet you t-t-too, sir," Mike replied. He gave a strong handshake and Mike almost winced a little.

"Oh, sorry 'bout that," he said sincerely, with a small chuckle. "I forget my own strength sometimes."

"I-i-it's fine, Mr Fazbear, s-s-sir," Mike stuttered. He rubbed his hand to get some of the feeling back.

"So," Freddy continued, leaning forward in his chair, "you're the brave soul who elected to take the position night shift sentry."

Mike had trouble telling if that was a statement or a question. To be on the safe side, he nodded quickly. Freddy's eyes studied him intensely.

"Hm. Bonnie wasn't wrong. You are a nervous fella, aren't you?" he noted.

"I um… uh… well, I…"

"Son, listen to me here. I want you to relax, okay?" It seemed like an order, but he didn't make it sound as such. "This ain't some kind of interrogation here. I just wanted the chance to meet you finally, see if what my girls told me holds any water. Not that I don't trust their word, of course. But I prefer to make my own judgements."

"I um… I'll try, sir," Mike mumbled.

Freddy held his gaze. "Son, listen close: I want you to take a few deep breaths an' trust me when I say that I will not raise my voice. I will not force you to answer any questions I might have. I will allow you all the time to answer them without needin' to be pushed. You are also free to ask any questions you might have about myself, or my girls an' I will answer them as honestly as I can. You have my word."

Mike took Freddy's advice and listened to the bear's words repeat inside his head. Surprisingly, he did find a lot of his tension slowly dissolve away. It was the fact that Freddy spoke with complete and utter honesty that made him feel a lot more relaxed. It was also the thought he would finally be able to get some answers to a few burning questions he had.

"Feel better?" Freddy asked.

"Y-yes, sir. Thank you," Mike murmured.

"There ya go. And speak up, son," he added. "I can't answer your questions if I can't hear you."

"Y-yes, sir," Mike said, raising his voice a little. "Y-your girls?"

"Bonnie and Chica, of course," he clarified. "Might sound strange to you, but I like to think myself as somethin' of a father to them. Since I share our genuine father's name, you understand."

"I see, sir," Mike nodded. "They seem to think very highly of you."

Freddy shrugged modestly. "I do the best I can for them. Doesn't mean they listen to everythin' I tell them but I wouldn't expect them to. 'Specially not Bonnie," he added with a chuckle. "I do not envy you for bein' on the recievin' end of her antics, Mike."

"It's not that bad, sir," Mike admitted. "I mean, a couple of times it has been, but she doesn't mean anything by it. Right? I mean, she's cool."

"That's how she sees it and no, she doesn't mean anythin' by it," he said. "Just her way of showin' she likes you. It's rare, but even I get subjected to it from time to time."

"Everyone else seems to," Mike said with a small laugh. "Chica though… she's really something. Like, how nice she is."

"I know what you mean," nodded Freddy. "Reckon you won't find many as kind as her."

"Honestly, sir, I consider myself lucky to know her. All of you," he said in earnest.

"Not all of us," Freddy murmured. Then, louder, "That's a mighty fine thing to hear from you, Mike. I can see why they've taken a liking to ya."

"Thank you, sir," Mike replied, with a small smile.

"I'm just bein' honest. Both Bonnie and Chica, those two set a lot by you as their friend," remarked the old bear. "I gotta admit, I can really see why. Ya seem like a decent fella, Mike. Yer polite, attentive, understandin'. Ya got a lot-a heart. I just gotta let ya know one important thing first."

"Y-yes?" Mike asked.

"This." He leaned forward in his chair, his bright blue eyes looking into Mike's very being. "We're a tight knit group, the three of us. We're like family. Despite previous mishaps with security guards, both-a my girls have come to like you and they put their trust in you. I warn you now, boy: if I hear so much as a whisper of you betrayin' that trust, you will have me to answer to. And believe me, you do not want that. That clear enough for ya?"

Mike gulped at the dangerous tone in his voice. "C-c-crystal, M-Mr Fazbear, sir."

"Good." His face lightened into a smile. "Now, stop lookin' like I'm gonna tear your head off. All that worryin's gonna give you grey hairs!"

"Y-yes, Mr Fazbear," he replied, but managed to smile as Freddy chuckled.

"That's the spirit, son! And hey, no more of this 'Mr Fazbear' nonsense. That was my father. From now on, you can call me Freddy," he insisted.

"O-okay Mr Faz- uh, Freddy," he corrected quickly.

"There we go." He leaned back in his chair. "Now then, I believe I promised I would answer any questions you might have. So, Mike, ask away."

Mike had more than a few questions about this place. He decided to go with the most important one, he felt.

"What exactly are you? Like, what kind of people are you?" he clarified.

"Hm. Well, that's a lil' tough to answer, Mike." Freddy considered the question carefully. "Mike, if I told you my girls an' I were advanced synthetic life forms, would you get what I meant?"

"What, like the Geth?"

"Mike, I don't have the faintest clue what that even means."

"Sorry. I-it's from a video game I played," he explained. "They're an alien race, fictional, of synthetic beings. Fusions of organic and artificial matter. There's um, also these androids in a movie called Alien. They were synthetic too. On the outside, they looked human but inside they were made of machinery, tubes and weird white stuff."

"Well, I'd say that last description is close to correct," Freddy said. "On the outside, we look like normal humans, albeit with some fauna attributes. Underneath that though, our internals are a series of complex and sophisticated artificial systems designed to imitate a livin', breathin' being of flesh and bone."

Mike blinked. "Wait, you're serious?"

"Son, does it look to you that I'm joking?" Freddy asked with a raised eyebrow. "But, if you want proof…"

Freddy reached under the table and grabbed an old rusted pan. He handed it to Mike.

"This here's old and had its time. I made sure it was okay with Chica 'fore I snagged it for tonight's lil' session. Go on. Try and bend the handle," he requested.

It was a strange request, but Mike complied. Despite the state of the rust, he achieved nothing beyond getting red flakes of metal on his hands. Not that his physical strength was anything remarkable, but still…

"Nothing." He gave it back to Freddy. "Why did you have me do that?"

"So you don't think it's kinda trick when I do this." With barely any effort, he not only bent the handle but completely snapped it within a second. For an added effect, he punched the inside, leaving a fist-shaped dent in it. "An' there we have it."

Mike stared in awe at the dented, broken pan. He ran his hand across the dent. A small part of him said that this could still be some kind of ruse. But another part of him said, regardless of how incredible it sounded, it would explain a few things.

"So… this is why you can be left on your own here at night?" Mike asked. "Why you don't need to sleep or eat?"

"Exactly," replied Freddy. "We can eat and sleep, if we wish. But it's just an option, a way for us to conserve our energy or get more of it. We can experience tastes, smells and textures too, so it is pleasant when we do choose to eat. 'Specially with Chica's pizza."

Mike nodded at that. It amazed Mike both how matter-of-fact Freddy was being about this and how much he was just willing to accept it.

"And Mr Fazbear, the human one I mean, he made you?" Mike inquired.

"Him and his two lab assistants, one of them being the venerable Mr Aaron Johnson," Freddy explained. "See, it was how we were originally intended to perform, without the suits. Mr Fazbear was the best in his field of robotics. He created the original animatronics that used to perform in our place. But he wanted to go further. He wanted to create the ultimate blend of man and machine and, in his eyes, the restaurant he'd started was the best testing ground. It'd already done wonders with the originals, lettin' them walk around and interact with people, not just stand on stage and perform. Introducing us to children, havin' us interact with them, he felt it was the best way to get us started on the road of life an' do some good. But he also wanted to keep the spirit of the old characters when we replaced 'em."

"And that's the reason for the um…?" Mike waved around his own head where Freddy's ears would be if he had them.

Freddy chuckled appreciatively, wiggling his ears. "Yeah, they're fine things, aren't they? Ties us to who we are an' makes us unique."

"But what happened then?" Mike went on. "If you were supposed to replace the old bots, why are you still wearing the suits and pretending to be those bots?"

"Well, the dreams of mice an' men…" Freddy's expression saddened. "See, Aaron shared his boss's vision. In fact, Mr Fazbear was inspired in part by seein' Aaron's little girl play with the old characters an' he wanted to inspire more joy like that. Guess it was because he never had kids himself might have had somethin' to do with it too. But his another assistant, one Sid Hawthorne, didn't quite share that vision. See, he apparently saw the potential to use the machines Mr Fazbear built for ill intent an' for his own gain. He'd already managed to steal a copy of the schematics to build his variations an' planned to do the same with us when we were finished. Sell the plans to the military or start some kinda robotic crime spree, I don't know.

"What I do know is that our father was one step ahead of him. First, he transferred us to Aaron's care, entrustin' both us an' the restaurant to him. Then, he staged it so it looked like all the files had been wiped and the experiments failed an' made off in the hopes that Sid would come after him. They did. But Aaron always lived in fear of the day that once he was done chasin' Mr Fazbear or if he ever caught him, he'd come back for us. That's why we now perform on stage, but wearin' the suits, under the guise of the old animatronics. He won't bother comin' back for somethin' they already have. We replaced the old animatrons in 1981 an' we've been performin' ever since."

Mike leaned back in his chair, pressing his hands to his head. It was all a lot to take in. Just what had he gotten himself into signing up for this job? He was not only guarding weird cyborg animal people, but they were under some kind of cover job?

God, he only wanted this job to pay off his rent and now he had to deal with this too?

"How are you feelin'?" Freddy asked.

"Like I just got dropped into a sci-fi show," muttered Mike. "He just cut and run? Seems like a lot of trouble for just one guy."

"Our father had the idea that he maybe had more than one person who thought the same as he did," Freddy elaborated. "He didn't want us to be at risk from them."

"You… you think he'll come back?"

"He might, but in case he does, that's why we keep up the camouflage of bein' animatronics. Look," he added, "the chances that he might come back are pretty small. Our father went underground an' covered his tracks well. So long as he's sniffin' around in the hopes of gettin' the files to make other synthetics, we're safe. Even if he does come back, we're no strangers to defendin' ourselves. I reckon we could handle them."

"I'll bet," Mike said, remembering the bear's strength and feeling a little better.

"Now, let me ask you a question, Mike," Freddy said seriously. "I know Mr Johnson had you sign a contract that swears you to secrecy but I gotta know: can we trust you with this? Will you keep this to yourself?"

"O-of course," said Mike quickly. "Y-you have my word."

"Swear to me, son," Freddy urged. "Swear to me you won't breathe to another soul what you heard here."

"I swear!" Mike cried. "Look, I've only known you all a few nights, but you, Bonnie and Chica… you've all been great to me. I think of you as my friends. I won't rat you out. Besides, who'd believe me if I did? Mr Johnson would make sure I lose whatever money I have and I'd just be painted as some nut like the others."

"That's good to hear." Freddy smiled a bit. "Gotta say, you're takin' this news pretty well."

"I guess," Mike shrugged. "Mainly it's because of how great you've all been, but I've also read a lot of sci-fi stuff and seen a lot of movies like Marvel and stuff. I always kind of hoped I'd end up in a world like that or a situation like that. I guess this is as good as it gets."

"That's one way of lookin' at it," chortled Freddy. "Did you have any other questions?"

There was one. One that both Bonnie and Mr Johnson hadn't answered. One he was sure that Chica wouldn't have answered either, if he'd asked.

"What's behind that curtain? The one that says it's out of order?"

He expected something along the lines of previous reactions when he asked that. In Freddy's case, his expression became more solemn and longing, like Mike had reminded him of a faint and distant memory of a time he wished he could get back.

"Thought you might have asked about that." He let out a long sigh. "That curtain houses the fourth member of our group. Or he used to be. 'Fore 1987…"

"Why? What happened then? Who is he?"

"Look, Mike. What you're askin' here, it's… it's difficult to talk about for all of us," Freddy said heavily. "If you really want to find out, I won't stop you. But you gotta know that, whatever you decide to do, you gotta deal with the consequences. An' I hope that, when you do find out, you won't think any less of us."

"I… I don't understand," Mike said. "Why would I think less of you?"

"If you're as curious as I think you are an' I gotta a strong inklin' you are, you'll find out," Freddy replied. "It shouldn't be hard for you to find an' when you do, you come back an' you talk to us about it. Okay?"

Mike wanted to feel a little irritated that Freddy wasn't being straight with him, but he'd just got done trusting him with what they really were. Whatever this was, it was big and Mike could understand him being reserved about telling him. He might not like it, but he understood.

After all, he hadn't told them everything about himself yet.

"You got it," Mike promised.

"Good." Freddy put on a smile. "You got any more questions?"

"Not that I can think of," admitted Mike.

"Then I think it's time we put some different worries to rest." He added in a louder voice, "Come on in, girls!"

The door opened, allowing Chica and Bonnie to trail into the room. Chica wrung her hands nervously while Bonnie tapped her foot with an irritated expression.

"About time," she said. "So, you tell him Fred?"

"Is he… do you like him?" Chica asked.

"To answer Chica first: yes, I do like him. To answer Bonnie: yes, I did tell him," he said simply.

"And?" Bonnie looked to Mike, almost apprehensive. "You good? With what we are?"

"D-d-do you still w-want to be our friend?" stammered Chica.

Any doubts Mike might have had before regarding their true nature evaporated in that instant. Looking at them now, he didn't see weird androids. He saw two people who seemed genuinely nervous on the prospect of being remaining friends after letting him hear a big secret.

It was at this point Mike stood up and smiled at them.

"You bet I do."

With another excited squeal, Chica wrapped him up in another hug. This time, Mike was ready for it and returned it. Bonnie just punched his arm affectionately while smirking confidently, looking a lot more relaxed. Freddy just watched, nodding approvingly.

But behind Chica, Mike could have sworn he saw the usually still curtains at Pirate Cove flutter like they were caught in some kind of breeze…


	8. Behind The Veil

**Behind The Veil**

There hadn't been much of the night left by the time Freddy invited Bonnie and Chica backstage. After a brief chat, there was about fifteen minutes before Mike's shift ended and the synthetics, or synths as he preferred to term them, needed to get dressed in their suits. They'd given him a fond farewell and Mike had let himself out with key before the day workers arrived.

But as he left, he couldn't help but give a sideways look at the eternally closed curtain of Pirates Cove. He was almost tempted to look back there, but forced himself to keep going. He didn't think Bonnie or Chica might appreciate it. By the time he got home, that curtain was all he could think about.

So, there was a fourth synth. And he'd just been left there, all by himself? Did none of the others besides Freddy even care? He had no idea how Chica felt about it, but he remembered Bonnie's anger when he'd asked about it. Whatever he, or she, had done it must have been pretty bad for the usually light-hearted woman to be so short about it.

Then there was the date Freddy mentioned. 1987. What was so significant about it? It certainly didn't seem to bring back any good memories, from what he could tell by Freddy's mentioning it. And he could bet that, whatever happened, maybe that was why Bonnie was so mad at their fourth member.

But part of him almost didn't want to know, that it might be better to let the past stay buried. What Freddy said to him about that date echoed in his mind.

"_I hope that, when you do find out, you won't think any less of us."_

They had been so good to Mike. They'd welcomed him, accepted him into their fold and called him their friend. They'd even trusted him with the true nature of their being. The idea of everything they'd done for him being tarnished because of what he might think of them after 1987… he didn't even want to consider it.

The ringing of the phone snapped him out of his reverie. He picked it up and checked the caller. Home. His parents.

Mike took a deep breath. He hadn't talked to them since he'd lost his last job. He didn't want them to know. No avoiding it now though. He'd only worry them if he didn't reply. He pressed the screen and lifted it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey, son," the voice of his dad greeted. "Sorry if this a little out of the blue."

"No, no, it's fine, dad," Mike said quickly. "I'm sorry I didn't call. I've uh, been busy."

"Must have been." His dad laughed a bit. "Keeping you busy at the office, are they?"

"Um, yeah. But how've you guys been?" he asked quickly. "You been doing okay, dad?"

"Best that I can, Mike," he said softly. "You know how it is. Some days and nights are harder than others."

"I know." Mike could still recall the bad days. "But this is a good one, yeah?"

"I think so," his dad replied. "Mail room's always busy, but what can you do? Good thing I've got the guys. Jerry says hi, by the way."

Mike smiled at the thought of one of his dad's friends. He was always good for a laugh. "Tell him I said hi back."

"Will do. I won't keep talking too long. Your mom wants to speak with you and you know how she is. What?" he asked in an aside to someone. "I can see that look you're giving me. You look like you're ready to snatch the phone right out of my hand!"

Mike laughed at the image of his mom waiting on tenterhooks to speak to her son. She worried, but all moms do.

"Anyway, how's things with you?" his dad asked. "Office not getting you down too much? Met any foxy chicks, dude?"

Mike rolled his eyes at his dad trying to be 'cool'. "You uh, could say that. And actually, dad… I've got something to tell you."

"What?" He sounded concerned now. "What's happened, Mike?"

"They um… they had to lay off some of the workers and uh…" Mike sighed. "I was… was one of them."

"You _lost_ your job?" his dad cried. "Well, when was this? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Dad, it's okay," interjected Mike quickly. "It was about a week ago, but it's fine. I-"

He paused when he heard a fumbling with the phone and the stern, but concerned voice of his mom replaced his dad's.

"Did I hear right?" she asked, getting straight to the point. "You lost your job?"

"Hi, mom," he greeted uneasily. "Um, how are you?"

"Don't change the subject, Michael." Full name. This was serious. "Mike, why didn't you tell us you'd lost your job?"

"It was no big deal, mom," he insisted. "I was on top of it, already looking for a new one."

"But you should have called us about it!" she protested. "You know, if you're ever in any trouble, that's what we're here for!"

"I didn't want to burden you," said Mike. "You guys have your own problems without having to worry about me."

"But it's our job to worry about you. You're our son."

Mike winced. That was a bit of a sting. But it was true. He didn't want to load off his problems onto them when they had their own. They'd been so good to him, it was the least he could do now he was out of college. It was why he moved out.

"Sorry. Actually, mom, I managed to get a new job," Mike told her. "It's a local place, I'm the-"

"Where?" she asked sharply.

"Um, not sure if you've ever heard of it," he said. "It's a restaurant, a pizza place-"

"Mike, what's its name?" she demanded.

"Uh, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza," Mike said quickly. "It's really cool, actually. There's-"

"Michael, listen to me," she said urgently. "I want you to find another job."

"W-what?" He was stunned by this sudden request.

"You heard what I said."

"B-but mom, why?" he asked. "W-what's wrong with Freddy's-"

"Michael, don't back talk to me!" she snapped. "I want you to go there, hand in a resignation and find another job. I don't want my son associated with _that_… that place!"

"Mom, what is going on-?"

"Just do as I say, Michael!" she implored. "When I next hear from you, I want it to be that you've quit your job at that vile place and found something better!"

Before Mike could say anything else, the long sounds of the dial tone filled his ears. He stared in disbelief at his phone, at his mother's words. She'd been worried about him not having a job, but the minute he mentioned Freddy's, it was like he'd told her he'd killed a man.

Normally a patient, understanding woman, it would take something big to make his mother sound so... scared.

That settled it. Regardless of how he might feel about the others, there was something else about Freddy's. Something they weren't telling him and he had a strong feeling that it had something to do with whatever happened in 1987.

Considering what Mr Johnson told him about the 'people' he knew working to discredit the people telling stories about Freddy's, Mike didn't really trust to go to any electronic records. This required a little more of a classic research style. It was on that note that Mike left his apartment and made for the local library.

It was kind of refreshing to step out of the hustle and bustle of the main streets, into the tranquil silence of the library. He'd been here a couple of times to read a few novels, but with all the trouble with his job he just hadn't found the time.

After asking about records of the local newspapers, Mike managed to find the archival section and found a few reporting from 1987. Eventually, he found that the date he needed to look for specifically was June 11 because just about all of them were reporting the same thing on their front pages.

Headlines that varied from FREDDY FAZBEAR SCANDAL to FAMISHED FOX AT FREDDY'S. Flicking one open, he read:

_Paramedics were called to the scene of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria to answer the frantic messages from customers that someone had been attacked at the popular restaurant. Arriving swiftly, they were shocked to discover a scene not unlike that of a horror film._

_Philip Letterman, age 42, wife to Pamela Letterman and father to Robert, was the tragic victim. The ambulance team reported that his frontal lobe had been completely torn out. They'd managed to stabilise his condition, but his ultimate fate is yet to be seen._

_The perpetrator of this horror? None other than one of the restaurant's robotic performers. According to eyewitness reports, the animatronic known as Foxy the Pirate was reported to have violently attacked and taken a large chunk out of the man's head. _

"_It was horrible!" a Mrs Anderson told our news team. "It just leaned forward and 'snap'! That was it! I was just lucky my little Chloe didn't see everything that happened, but I'll never forget what I saw here!"_

_What caused the animatronic to behave in this ghastly manner is unknown, but attendants were swift to have the robot removed from the scene. Sadly, they were not fast enough to prevent these events from transpiring._

"_I'm still shocked, I honestly am," Mrs Letterman told our reporter. "Thank goodness that… that _thing _didn't get my son. They won't get away with this, I'll make sure of that."_

_Shocked and terrified parents have already gathered up in arms against the restaurant's manager, Aaron Johnson and many have demanded compensation for the traumatic scene that their children witnessed._

"_My thoughts and prayers are with that poor man's wife and child," Mr Johnson said in a public statement. "Though we cannot undo what has happened here, we can take steps to ensure it never happens again and that we can do what we can for the families who were unfortunate enough to witness this."_

_Most now wish to know who takes the blame here. Though sources have confirmed that Freddy's hires no regular mechanic to maintain the condition of the animatronics, families have found another possible guilty party._

_David Smith, full-time night guard and part-time day guard, was on duty at the time of the incident. He was reportedly close to Foxy's performance area when everything went wrong and has been blamed for ignoring possible danger signs of the character's behaviour._

"_It isn't like him to do something like this," he insisted desperately in an interview. "Whatever happened here, it was just an accident. A horrible accident."_

_Horrible? Yes. Accident? Maybe. But that doesn't excuse what's happened as a result. _

_Who does the fault lie with? The gross negligence of the guard? A lack of any on-location mechanic? All we know for sure is that things don't look good for Freddy's._

Mike almost felt sick at the end of reading that report.

Foxy had just… done that? Just bitten right into his head, in front of everyone? These weren't just machines. They were thinking, living people in Mike's eyes. Just what had driven him to do such a thing? No wonder they kept him behind that curtain.

Mike could see what Freddy had meant now. This would be a hard thing to talk about for anyone. Foxy had probably been with them from the start and he imagined had been just as close as the others. The fact that he had done something like this… it must have really shaken them. Even now, they didn't even want to talk about him.

Reading further, the story didn't stop there. Freddy's had paid a huge sum of money as compensation for the families involved, including a big payoff to Letterman's family. That explained their financial troubles and the current reputation.

He also read that, because of the amount of hate that had transpired due to the Bite, David Smith had been forced to retire and move away from the town. No doubt why they hadn't had a guard for such a long time and why he'd left.

But all of this and Mike still had one burning question in his mind: what kind of person was Foxy? The others were all nice. They had a few flaws to be sure, but what person didn't? Overall, they were good people. So, what made Foxy different? There was only one way to find out. Bonnie had advised him against it, but he had to see what was behind that curtain. Who was behind it.

He had to know.

* * *

><p>He arrived late in the afternoon, just as his stomach was growling. He ordered a margarita from the kitchen and sat down to his lunch, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do. And making sure he didn't do it on an empty stomach.<p>

Freddy and the gang were performing on stage for a group of kids. They had just finished a song for the kids in attendance and did their jerky bows. Then, Freddy spotted Mike and did something quite unexpected.

"Hey kids! Before we play our next song, there's someone very special we want you to meet!" He pointed at the back. "You see that man there?"

Mike felt his face flush as dozens of little eyes turned to look at him. He'd never been comfortable with being the centre of attention with a group of people.

"He's the night guard here," Freddy explained. "It's his job to look after us at night when you kids go home."

"Wow!" a little girl said in amazement. "He gets to see you at night?"

"You bet, kid! Without him, we wouldn't be able to be as awesome for you guys as we normally would," Bonnie said appraisingly.

"So, why don't we all take a moment to say a big thank you to our friend, Mike?" Chica suggested. They all waved in unison. "Say, 'thank you, Mike'!"

"Thank you, Mike!" the children chorused, waving at him too.

Feeling a little awkward, Mike waved back at them. Part of him wished he could just melt into the floor, but another part felt a sense of pride and affection that they'd done that for him. And a little bit of guilt for what he was about to do.

He waited until they started performing their next number. Then, quietly and carefully, he snuck over to Pirate Cove. Taking one last look to make sure no one had seen him, he pulled back the curtain and stepped inside.

Carefully, Mike closed the curtain behind him and pulled out his torch. It was a crude stage, depicting a pirate ship on the seas. The area in front of the ship was modelled to look like a dock. But its age and neglect was clear. The paint was fading, the wood was starting rot and it looked like parts were going to fall off.

Mike almost stumbled when he caught his foot on something. He looked down and nearly jumped when he saw a pair of eyes staring back at him. It only took a few seconds to realise that whatever was looking at him wasn't moving and he calmed down.

It was another suit like the others wore, but its occupant was missing. It depicted the long pointed snout and sharp teeth of a fox. The eye patch propped over his left eye, the tattered brown pants and the hook on his left hand betrayed his role as a pirate. The suit showed the same signs of neglect as his set. The synthetic fur was falling off in places and parts of the suit had sizable holes in it.

Carefully, he ran a hand over its head. He faintly shivered when he leaned in closer and could make out faint red stains on the teeth. The jaw hung limply and a quick inspection revealed it to be broken. As if it had bitten into something too hard and snapped the hinges.

But if the suit was here… where was the synth that was meant to be wearing it?

"Hands off the suit, boy," a gruff voice growled.

Mike shot to his feet, whipping his torch beam up to pierce the dark, find where the voice had come from.

Something stirred in the dark. A shadowy shape lumbered out from behind the pirate ship, almost in a drunken swagger. Once again, a pair of yellow eyes were staring at Mike from the dark. But this time, they belonged to something living.

"Take a wrong turn, laddy?"

Mike froze. His mind conjured an image of Captain Barbossa from Pirates of the Caribbean. Not just for the pirate accent, but because_ that_ sounded hostile.

"Don't know if you can be readin' properly, boy," it snarled, taking a few steps closer, "but the sign says 'Out. Of. Order'."

"S-s-sorry," Mike stammered.

"Aye, it says that too." The light glinted off the sharp metal of a hook hand being raised. "So, ya can read after all. Tha' means ya came in here on purpose. Come ta kick an ol' fox when he's down, is tha' it?"

"I-I-I'm sorry, s-s-sir!" Mike was desperately fumbling for the curtain. "I'll l-l-leave, s-"

"Then leave, boy!" the figure demanded. "Or Ol' Foxy'll gut ya like a fish an' string ya up on the mast fer all ta see! Go on, now! Scram! Next time, I won't be so nice!"

The figure took another step forward, shoving his hook right in front of Mike's face. That was enough to make Mike lose his footing and tumble backwards out of the curtain, right onto the floor.

His face burned at the sound of children laughing at the spectacle. He faintly heard Freddy make some calling to him if he had a nice trip, which made the kids laugh even more.

He tried his best to ignore them and stared up at the curtain while it fell back into place, once again concealing its inhabitant. So, that was Foxy. The mysterious fourth member of the group and the perpetrator of the Bite of '87.

If that was how he usually was, it was no mystery as to why he had bitten that parent or why he was kept hidden away. To think that he was just there, feet away from all those other kids. What if one got curious and wandered in there? What if they already had?

"Are you okay, Mr Mike?" To Mike's surprise, the little girl from before had come to check on him. "You look like you had a nasty fright."

"I'm um, I'm fine." Mike pulled himself to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster. "I just uh, fell."

"Why were behind that curtain?" she asked.

"Just checking something," Mike muttered.

"What's back there?" she persisted. "Why's it always shut?"

He looked down at the girl. She was young, no more than seven or eight years old. She had short brown hair, a round rosy face and innocent brown eyes. She had no idea what Mike knew and he had to keep it that way.

"Nothing. I mean, there's nothing there," he clarified. "Just uh old, broken stuff. Now um, you'd better get going. You're missing the show."

The girl cast another curious glance at the curtain, then back to the stage where Freddy and his band were performing and her friends were cheering for them.

"Okay. But… can I ask you something, Mr Mike?" she said timidly.

"Um, sure." He knelt down to her level. "What's up?"

"Um… can you give this to Freddy and his friends tonight?" She held up a drawing for him shyly. "Tell them it's from Annie?"

Mike looked at the drawing. It was a crude, yet colourful representation of Freddy and the gang. Over Freddy it said 'funniest'. Over Bonnie, 'coolest'. Over Chica, 'nicest'. It was crude, yes, but as an artist, Mike found a little bit of appreciation in doing it because of how much she liked them.

"Sure I can," he told her. "First thing when I see them."

"Yay! Thank you! Bye, Mr Mike! Careful not to fall next time," she warned with a little smile and scampered off.

Mike smiled after her. If all the kids were like that, he could see why Freddy, Chica and Bonnie enjoyed their work here. A glance at them showed him that the latter two were looking in his direction, he assumed waiting for the girl, Annie, to come back.

But even with their suits on, there was no mistaking the fury in Bonnie's eyes or the abject horror in Chica's. Those looks were meant for him and he had a feeling those would be the least of his worries tonight.

But Mike would be ready. With all that he knew now, it was definitely time to get some answers.


	9. When You Sign Up

**When You Sign Up**

It was like before getting on stage to perform for the first time for Mike that night. No matter how much you rehearse, no matter how much you try to mentally prepare yourself, you always feel nervous when the moment comes around. You have no idea if everything will turn out well or if it'll just go spectacularly wrong. All you could do was go out there and find out.

And that was just what he did. Almost the second his shift started, he watched and waited while Freddy and the others hurriedly removed their suits. Bonnie in particular was moving the fastest, making occasional glances at the camera. The minute they made moves to get off the stage, he slammed down the tablet, rose from his chair and strode out into the restaurant.

He expected to be met with Bonnie's blazing expression, to receive the full force of her anger. But instead, something collided with him and pulled him into a death grip of a hug.

"Mike… oh, Mike!" Chica was practically sobbing with relief. "Thank goodness you're okay…"

It was another awkward returning of a hug for Mike.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine, Chica," he assured. "O-of course I'm fine."

"Why?" She pulled out of the hug and stared imploringly at him. "Why… would you put yourself at risk like that?"

"Yeah, Mike," challenged Bonnie. "Why would you?"

His first instinct was to hide from her furious expression. To look away and not face it down. But he didn't. He looked right back at her.

"I had to know," he answered firmly. "I had to see."

"Oh, well that's all _fine_ then," Bonnie remarked. "No really, it is. If Mikey just _had _to know what was behind the curtain I told him _not_ to look behind, then by golly _that _shouldn't stop him."

"It was the o-only way since you w-wouldn't tell me," Mike retorted.

"Because you didn't need to know!" snapped Bonnie. "We keep that curtain closed for a reason, Mike!"

"And I know that reason!" He thrust a finger at it. "I learned what happened, Bonnie! I found out about 1987!"

"Oh, so that's what it is, is it? You found out about it and you wanted to see if the guy back there was some head-chomping monster, is that it?" she accused.

"Bonnie, please," urged Chica quietly. "L-let's not say anything we'll regret."

"That how you see the rest of us now Mike, huh?" she pressed on. "You think we're just gonna bite your head off too? What right have you got to judge us like that?"

"I didn't say anything like that," reminded Mike. "I just wanted to know what sort of person would do something like that."

"Mike, there really is more to it than that," Chica tried to say, but she was cut off by Bonnie.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He tore open a man's head, Bonnie!" shouted Mike. "Usually, that's cause for concern!"

"What do you know?" She shoved a finger on his chest. "You weren't there!"

"But you were! Would you say that it's right that he should do something like that?"

"Well, no-"

"Would you say that was a good thing to do?" Mike pressed.

"Of course not-"

"Then it's right he should be kept hidden back there, away from everyone else!"

"We don't 'keep him hidden!' It's his choice!" she told him.

"There we go then!" continued Mike. "Even he thinks it's for the best! He sure as hell didn't want me anywhere near him!"

"It's not like that!" she insisted.

"So you're saying he isn't dangerous?"

"No! Yes, no… I don't know!" she cried. "Shut up!"

"No, I won't shut up!" yelled Mike. "That's what I always do! Little Mikey Schmidt just keeping quiet, but not this time, Bonnie!

"Listen, you'd better shut your mouth right now, because if you don't, I'm gonna-!"

"STOP IT!" They both turned to see Chica's eyes shimmering with tears. "B-both of you, please! Just… just don't!"

Before either of them could say or do anything, Chica covered her face in her hands and ran sobbing towards the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind her. Bonnie reached out after her, looking guilty. She glared at Mike and hurried after her friend.

Watching them go, Mike felt a little guilty too. But he knew where he stood. The way he saw it, Foxy was dangerous. He was one of their own and even they seemed to know it. They'd kept him from going back behind that curtain and they seemed content to leave him in his self-imposed exile. They must understand where he stood, even though he probably could have put it better.

But that little part of Mike that always had doubts made itself heard. It didn't explain why Bonnie was so agitated and unsettled about it. Why Chica had been driven to tears over the issue. Was it just because he and Bonnie had been fighting or was it something more?

He was almost tempted to go after them, to talk without shouting this time. But something, or someone, stopped him.

"Not gonna sugar-coat it, son. That could have gone better." Freddy stood at the entrance to the backstage area.

Mike sighed. "I don't know about that."

"I told you, Mike. You gotta deal with the consequences of your actions," Freddy reminded him.

"I know." He looked back at the kitchen. "Should I… go after them?"

"I'd say it's best you leave 'em for now," advised Freddy. "Those are some old wounds you opened up an' they run pretty deep."

"What should I do now then?" Mike asked.

"Come on inside. We need to talk." Freddy left the door open for him to the dimly lit room.

Mike's eyes lingered on the kitchen door. The guilt squirmed away in his gut. He followed Freddy backstage and was surprised to discover that they weren't on their own tonight.

"Mr Johnson?"

The late-aged man gave him a sad sort of smile. "Evening, Mike my lad. Been a while since I spent a night here. I was just chatting with Freddy here when we heard the ruckus out there."

"You heard that?" He felt a little worse that his boss was privy to that. Not just the boss, but almost their carer. "I'm uh, sorry, sir."

"It's alright, Mike," he said. "I can understand how you feel. But remember, it's not just me you need to apologise to."

"Yes, sir." He placed his hands sheepishly into his pocket and pulled something out. Something made of paper. "Oh. I forgot to give them this."

Mr Johnson took the drawing from him. "Ah. This looks like one of my Annie's."

"Yes, sir." Mike was surprised at this. "Sh-she's your daughter?"

"Second, yes and the youngest," he said proudly. "Quite a surprise for me and my wife when we had her, but a pleasant one. Her older sister was happy about it too. She has her college studies, but she always makes time to see her."

"An' a fine young'un she is, Aaron," agreed Freddy. He examined the drawing. "Fine work. I think she's gettin' better."

"She has you to thank for that, Freddy," he chortled and added to Mike, "She loves it here. I bring her as often as I can and she's always scribbling away at some doodle or another for this lot. She's got an artistic spirit, she has. Proud to see it flourish."

"I would be, sir," said Mike earnestly.

Mike took a seat with them at the table. Freddy gazed sagely at the two of them, while Mr Johnson mainly appraised Mike.

"So, you know then?" Mr Johnson asked. "About '87?"

"Y-yes, sir," Mike said. Now that the aftermath of the argument caught up with him, he suddenly didn't feel as driven as before. "Freddy, um gave me the date."

"Thought he might have." He looked at Freddy. "You always give it away, don't you?"

"I gave away nothin', Aaron. Just a date," Freddy replied. "I just showed Mike the door. He was the one that walked through it."

"Old philosopher," rumbled Mr Johnson. "But I suppose you were bound to find out soon enough. Nearly thirty years after it happened and it still manages to crop up when you least expect it. People never really let you forget."

"The p-past never stays buried for long, sir," quoted Mike.

"Don't you start," he warned with a chuckle. "Probably went and looked at the old reports, did you? Oh, they had a field day with that. There were always people that had their doubts about this place and that day was just a perfect chance to hold us down and kick us where the sun don't shine."

"What Aaron is tryin' to say, Mike, is that the newspapers present a very biased and one-sided view on how those events transpired," Freddy said. "Now that you know, I'm willin' to tell you the full story."

"Um, wouldn't it be kind of biased coming from you too, Freddy?" asked Mike.

He shrugged. "Fair point, but let me ask you: you think those reporters ever tried to interview Foxy and ask him about what happened? Or any of us? Lookin' at that, which would you say is the more biased source of information?"

Mike considered that. Things seemed pretty clear to him, about what Foxy was like and what happened. But he was right. He hadn't heard things from their side. His dad always told him there were two sides to every story. Despite withholding a few things, Freddy had been the most honest with him and the most forward. Mike felt he could trust his word.

Also, regardless of what had happened before… they were the closest thing he'd had to good friends in a long time. They'd greeted him with open arms and he just went ahead and passed judgement without really hearing about it properly. He was just so shocked and scared and it seemed so obvious what was happening.

Wouldn't be the first time he'd let his fears get the better of him.

"Okay then." Mike leaned back, so he was looking at both Mr Johnson and Freddy. "So… what did happen?"

"Well, first off, how about I tell you what Foxy's role was here? Just to give you a good idea," Freddy added.

"That makes sense," agreed Mike.

"Right then." Freddy sat back in his chair, staring off reminiscently. "Now, we used to have a little routine to our performances. When myself, Bonnie and Chica were done playin', it was Foxy's turn to take centre stage. We'd get a lil' rest and the kids would scamper on over to the Pirates Cove. Sometimes, we'd have 'em call him out three times before he'd appear, just to add a lil' somethin' an' he'd jump out from somewhere. They always loved that.

"Durin' the day, you've seen us interactin' with the kids. In those days, it used to be different. All of us, at some point, we'd come down off the stage for some quality time with the kids. Talkin' to 'em, huggin' 'em, playin' games, takin' photos. Whatever it was they wanted. But Foxy, interaction was his speciality. Soon as the kids went over to see him, they were off on one of his adventures."

"Hold on, adventures?" Mike asked. "How could they go anywhere?"

Freddy chuckled. "Mike, never underestimate the power of a child's imagination when it's fuelled and Foxy? Oh, he sure knew how to fuel. See, he would tell his stories to his 'crew' 'bout his adventures on his ship the _Salty Sea Fox_. He and his crew could be sailin' the high seas, fightin' off sea monsters and skeleton pirates, seekin' out lost islands and huntin' for hidden treasure. Gotta say, I always did envy him a lil' for how much he could just spark their spirits like that. He was a gifted storyteller, our Foxy."

Mike couldn't help but smile at the thought. Already, he was starting to feel guilty again for the possibility of having jumped to a conclusion so quickly about it.

"Then came that day," Freddy said sombrely. "See, Foxy always felt a level of responsibility for his lil' crew members, as any good captain would. If a child hurt themselves during the fun, he'd sing a merry sea shanty to cheer 'em up. If two kids got in a scuffle, he'd always find a way to break 'em up and find some kinda common ground or tell 'em his crew shouldn't be worryin' about fightin' each other when there was 'bigger things'. If someone was feelin' left out, they'd be the star of the show for a bit."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Mike.

"So you'll understand," Freddy replied. "Now, when lil' Robert Letterman came in with his folks, he took to Foxy like a pirate does to the sea. Even when all of us were playin' in the band, Robbie would always find a way to get back to Foxy. Foxy didn't mind, of course. I think he had some inklin' that that boy needed someone to talk to an' that somethin' was gettin' him down. From what I could tell conversin' around the restaurant, he was right.

"See, Philip wasn't actually his real father, the boy told him. He was a step-parent. Somethin' tragic happened to his real dad and his mother had dated and married this man a lil' while ago. And while Philip might have treated his mother right, I don't think the same could be said for lil' Robbie. Rare moments when I managed to speak with the boy, I could tell too. Lil' things, like a look of apprehension whenever he saw his step-dad or a flinch when he heard him call his name. More like callin' a dog than a child. Of course, Foxy could tell he was a 'scurvy cur' as he put it.

"But it all came to ahead when the time came to leave. Lil' Robbie was havin' the time of his life, he didn't want to go. Philip was losin' his patience with the boy. He didn't do anythin' extremely drastic, they were in public but you could tell the more Robbie begged not to go, the more he was bein' pushed to his limit and the madder Foxy got at the sight of one of his lil' mateys bein' treated like that. It was he physically grabbed the boy and roughly tried to drag him out, that was when Foxy snapped. Happened in the space of about a second. He always was fast was Foxy. The rest, as they say…"

Freddy trailed off the end, shaking his head sadly. Mr Johnson looked rather forlorn at the end of it too. Mike slumped back in his chair, feeling the guilt weigh down deeper inside him. If Freddy was right and he had little reason to doubt he was, then he might have seriously misjudged Foxy's actions, horrible as they were.

But that was the one thing still niggling at Mike when Freddy finished.

"That still doesn't really excuse what happened," he said. "Even if he did want to protect the kid, that… that's going too far."

"I'm not sayin' it wasn't, Mike," replied Freddy. "I'm just tellin' you like it was so you won't be quick to judge my friend. Anyone would act to help someone they care about. Foxy though, he always had a bit of a quick temper and in his eyes, hurtin' one of his lil' mateys was inexcusable. But even he was horrified at what he'd done afterward. Wouldn't talk for quite a while after it happened."

"However well Foxy may have intended, there was still fallout," Mr Johnson said, taking up the story. "As you might have read in reports, we had to pay hefty compensation to those families. But I also felt it wise to act on my promise to make sure it never happened again. So… I had Pirate Cove put out of commission. To my surprise, Foxy actually volunteered himself for it before I even suggested it. I also made it so Freddy and the others weren't allowed to leave the stage after performances."

"But they didn't do anything," protested Mike.

"In the eyes of the parents, any one of 'em could be just as dangerous as Foxy," explained Mr Johnson. "Not long after, that was when our long-time night guard David Smith left us with his wife and moved towns. Needless to say that it was a very hard time. For everyone."

"So I think you can understand our reluctance to talk about it, Mike," Freddy said.

"I understand." He stared up at Freddy. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry that happened to you all."

"We all are, Mike," murmured Freddy. "But now you're here. After half a dozen night guards all ran off before their first night was even over, you stayed. You learned what we are and you've accepted us, given us hope for the first time in a long, long time. Hope for the chance of a new beginning."

"A new beginning?" asked Mike.

"Indeed, lad!" Mr Johnson declared. "It's been thirty years since that incident and Freddy's has been crawling along ever since. I know we might never wipe the stain off our establishment's history, but I say it's high time we took steps to try our damndest to clean it off. A fresh start! But for that, we're going to need all of the Fazbear crew."

"_All_ the crew," Freddy repeated.

It didn't take Mike long to pick up on their meaning. "You mean you want Foxy back too?"

"It really goes without sayin', Mike," Freddy said. "Ever since that day, he's been stuck behind that curtain feelin' sorry himself. Isn't it twenty-seven years penance enough, Mike?"

Mike had to agree. Whatever Foxy had done, he'd been on his own behind that curtain for a very long time. He'd only seen him in the dark. Who knew what kind of state he might be in?

"What about Bonnie and Chica?" he asked. "You might want him back, but they don't seem very keen on it."

"Those two have their own personal issues with Foxy," Freddy told him. "But just as Foxy has served enough time for what he's done, it'll also be time for them to confront those issues. No matter how complex they may be, I can tell you that they miss Foxy too, in their own way. We were brought into this world together, Mike. You don't easily sever a bond like that."

"If you say so," murmured Mike. "So, what do you think we should do about him?"

"We need someone to talk to him," Mr Johnson said. "But the way we see it, it can't be any one of us. We're having a fresh start, so I think it'll do Foxy good to hear kind words from a fresh face."

"W-what? M-me?" Mike stammered. "Why me?"

"You'll be representin' that there's hope that the best times here may be recaptured," said Freddy. "A new night guard after so long, a new friend, will do Foxy as much good as it has done us. You might not know it, but you're helpin' to make changes around here, Mike. If anyone can do this, you can."

"You… you have that much faith in me?"

"I do, son." Freddy smiled gently. "You can do this, Mike. I know you can. Please, Mike. Above all else… I jus' want my friend back."

Mike still felt a bubble of fear about going back through that curtain. But it was tempered by a sense of pride and pity. It was the first time he'd seen Freddy look so vulnerable. How had he managed to endure almost thirty years of this?

He nodded firmly. "I'll do my best, Freddy."

The old bear smiled warmly. "Thank ya, son."

"Atta boy!" praised Mr Johnson, patting him on the back. "It's oddly fitting, you being the one to do this. Even the fact you found yourself here is." He chuckled. "It's almost like fate."

That confused Mike. "What is?"

Mr Johnson furrowed his brow. "You mean you don't know, lad?"

"Don't know what?" Mike looked from Freddy to his boss. "What else don't I know?"

"You think we should tell him?" Mr Johnson asked in aside to Freddy.

"That's your decision, Aaron," Freddy replied. "But the way I see it, the boy's had enough secrets bein' kept around him."

"Tell me what?" Mike asked with mounting frustration. "What is it?"

Mr Johnson gave him a long look. He sighed heavily.

"Listen close, Mike," he murmured. "This is going to be… hard to explain."


	10. Lost At Sea

**Lost At Sea**

Mike once more stood at the threshold of the curtain to Pirate Cove. But this time, he felt like he knew what to do. He was still scared. Scared that this wouldn't work or that Foxy might hurt him for disturbing him.

But he managed to push those fears down. In light of what he'd learned last night and all the time he'd had to think about it, he knew he had to try. He could feel the eyes of the others watching him from the stage, but he had to fight every urge to look back.

He hadn't managed to apologise to Bonnie and Chica. The sheer weight and revelation of what Mr Johnson had told him had just been so much, every other thought had been banished from his mind. He'd just sat in the security office for the rest of his shift, doing his best to take it all in. A couple of times, he thought he'd heard footsteps approaching the door, but when he'd looked up, there was no one there.

Tonight, he decided, I'll make sure I apologise. Just so long as he lived to do it. Hopefully, they'd thank him for this.

Mike took a deep breath. With a trembling hand, he pulled back the curtain. Feeling like a diver about to take the plunge into the cold, dark depths of the ocean, he stepped inside. He shut the curtains. His torch was in his hand and he lit it, shining it around the dilapidated set.

It didn't take him long to find who he was looking for.

"Back again, lad?" Foxy growled from the shadows. "I thought you'da learned yer lesson."

"I guess I'm a slow learner," returned Mike.

"Seems tha' way." He raised his hook hand and stalked towards him. "How 'bout I carve a permanent lesson on ye?"

The threat sent chills down Mike's spine, but he stood his ground. If Foxy was anything like Freddy had told him, his threats were just empty words. That was the reassurance he was going with, anyway.

"Fine then." Mike stood with his arms apart. "Go ahead."

Foxy froze. "What?"

"I said, g-go ahead," he stammered. "D-do your worst."

"Yer tryin' ta roar like a lion, but yer only mewlin' like a kitten," sneered Foxy. "I suggest ya turn around and go back the way ya came."

Mike did nothing. He was shaking. Sweat was trickling down his back. But he stood his ground.

"Are ye deaf, lad?" demanded Foxy, shoving his hook in Mike's face. "I said, go! Go on!"

Again, Mike said and did nothing. He looked right back into Foxy's glowing yellow eyes. He could see, very faintly, he was shaking too.

"Blast it!" Foxy growled in frustration and pulled his hook away. "What are ya tryin' ta gain from testin' a pirate's patience, lad?! Yer playin' with fire here and yer gonna get burned!"

"Y-you're not going to hurt me, F-Foxy," Mike said at last. "If you were… you would have done it by now."

Foxy glared at Mike in the dark. He took the opportunity to have a good look at the synth, now that his eyes were adjusted to the dark.

He possessed a very prominent, pointed chin and a lean face with a pointed nose. From his head grew a fiery, messy mane of red hair and a pair of fox's ears sprouted from his head. The rest of his body had the same, lean form and he was actually quite tall, maybe a foot taller than Mike. A fox's tail swung behind him, bushy but also a little matted. His face was set in a bitter scowl, directed at Mike.

The trappings that made him a pirate were very obvious. An eye patch was propped over his left eye. His hair was tied in a red headscarf. A golden earring dangled from his ear, its shine worn and dull He wore a loose and stained white shirt and Mike could see a pirate's coat hung up on the front of the pirate ship, along with a tri-corner hat decorated with a skull and a belt with plastic sword and a popgun flintlock pistol. Tattered brown pants covered his legs, along with a pair of black boots.

The neglect was even more obvious now he could see. His face was dirty and unwashed. His hair was tangled and had many loose ends. His clothes were worn and frayed. Even parts of his synthetic skin had worn away, revealing the metal skeleton beneath. His eyes swam with cynicism, guilt and most prominently, loneliness.

His scowl deepened. "What are ye starin' at, lad? Ya never seen a pirate before?"

"Not like you," muttered Mike.

"Hmph." Foxy stalked away back behind his ship. Mike began to follow and he rounded back on him. "I thought I told ya to leave, boy."

"Y-you also told me you'd um… gut me like a fish," recalled Mike. "Haven't done that."

"Not yet. Are ya temptin' me ta try?" he challenged.

"I already said, Foxy. You won't hurt me," repeated Mike.

"An' what makes ya so sure-a that, matey?" growled Foxy.

"I just… I know you won't."

Foxy held him in his gaze, then cast it to the ground.

"Aye…" His voice had lost its edge. Now, he just sounded distant and forlorn. "I won't hurt ya, lad. I've enough-a that. Jus'… jus' do this ol' sea dog a favour an' leave me alone."

He completed his walk back around the back. He leaned against a particularly worn part of it and slid down to the floor, staring at the wall. From the look of the peeled paint, it seemed this was his only regular activity.

Mike didn't go though. He just stood and stared at Foxy. Had this been all he had done for almost thirty years? And he did this out of his own volition?

"What are ya still doin' here, lad?" snapped Foxy. "I asked fer ya ta leave me alone, didn't I?"

"You did," Mike nodded. "But I'm not going to. Not yet."

"Blast it," he grumbled. "Just me luck…"

"You don't even know me. I'm-"

"I know who ya are, lad," Foxy interrupted. "Mike, the new night guard. At long last, Johnson found someone willin' ta do the job. Not that it matters ta me."

"You heard then?" Mike asked.

"'Course I heard. I might be back here an' I might be gettin' on, but I'm not deaf. I hear the lasses talkin' about ya." His expression softened. "Fer what it's worth, ya do good work Mike. Been a while since I heard 'em that happy. No use wastin' yer time on me. I'm not worth it."

"I'm willing to spend it." Mike kneeled down. "I've got plenty of time."

"Why are ya here, lad?" Foxy asked suddenly. "What are ya doin' here?"

"I know, Foxy. About 87," he clarified.

"A-course ya do. Who doesn't?" Foxy growled. "I know what I did, boy. If ya want ta shout me down or guilt me, go ahead. I deserve it."

"I'm not going to do any of that," said Mike. "I'm here to tell you… that it's time you stop doing this to yourself. Hiding away behind this curtain."

"Oh really?" Foxy scowled again. "An' jus' what has caused this change? Ya found a way ta turn back time an' fix what I did? Ferget it, lad. I chose this. Ya reap what ya sow an' this is all my crop has earned me. I gotta live with it."

"Maybe. But you don't have to do it in here," Mike persisted. "All on your own."

"Yes, I do," he insisted. "It's for the best. They don't want me anymore. Better just ta leave me ta rot an' be done with it."

Mike could understand why Foxy was feeling like this. He could understand why he thought he deserved it. But everything Mike had experienced this last week, the secrets, the revelations, it felt like it had all been leading up to this.

And he wasn't going to back down. Not this time.

"No," he said firmly. "Not anymore."

Foxy rounded on him. "Now, see here-"

"No, you see here." Mike leaned right into his face. "Now, stop whining, shut up and listen. Because I'm going to tell you something and you are going to listen. We clear?"

Foxy was momentarily stunned. But not for long.

"Ya can't talk that way to a captain, lad."

"Yes, I can. Because I'm the security guard. In this case, that outranks captain," he countered. "Now, shut up and listen."

He didn't know if Foxy was really swayed over by the argument or if he just didn't care. Either way, the fox shut his mouth and slumped back against the ship.

"Now," Mike began, "I know everything about this place. What you all really are. Why you're here. The worst part of your history. And I know that, in all of that, there was a man. A man that you called your friend. Who looked after you all when the doors were closed and I who you looked after in return. A man called David Smith."

He paused. When Foxy didn't interject or say anything, he continued.

"I know that he had to leave and so do you. But what you don't know is what happened after that. Everything that came after and lead me here. Like it was fate. I know who you really are, but you don't know who I really am."

"What are ya babblin' about lad?" asked Foxy.

"I'm about to tell you," said Mike. "It was what I was told last night. Something I'd never even known up until that night. But now I do and you will too. For you to understand…"

* * *

><p>"<em>Mike," Mr Johnson began, "did your parents ever tell you much? About what they used to do?"<em>

"_Nothing much, no," answered Mike. "Just that my dad used to be a night guard and that he met my mom when he bought her a pizza when he met her crying at the bus stop."_

"_I see." Mr Johnson was silent a moment. "Well, I don't really blame 'em for not telling you the truth. I thought they might have mentioned something a little more, but… I reckon you have the right to know."_

"_Know what?" Mike was really starting to lose his patience now. "What haven't they told me?"_

_Mr Johnson didn't answer. Not directly. _

"_You've probably heard quite a lot about our former security guard, David Smith." He smiled reminiscently. "Good man. One of the best I've known, besides Mr Fazbear. Always happy to help those who might need it and one of the first real friends for Freddy and the others. He was so dedicated to his work here, I think he would have put on a suit and performed with 'em if we'd asked him to."_

"_I think I do recall one time that I did," put in Freddy._

_The old man chortled. "Anyway, as you might know, he had a target painted on his back for quite a while after the Bite. He'd just gotten engaged to his girlfriend and they were thinking of settling down together. But he didn't want to put her or their child through what he had been. So, very reluctantly, he resigned and moved away with her. I didn't hear from him for almost two years and the others, well…"_

"_They took it hard," said Freddy simply, yet heavily. "We all did."_

"_Then, out of the blue, on March 21 1991, he rang me up," he continued. "He said he no longer called himself David Smith anymore. He legally changed his name, adopting the family name of his ancestors when they immigrated to the States from Germany. He now called himself Andrew Schmidt."_

_The implication hit Mike with the force of a truck. No. No, it couldn't be. It was just a coincidence. But that date that was his… the day he was…_

"_And he'd called me to tell me that his wife had just given birth to a son." Mr Johnson looked Mike dead in the eyes now. "They'd decided to call him Michael."_

* * *

><p>"Blow me down," whispered a gobsmacked Foxy.<p>

"That was pretty much my reaction too," Mike murmured. "He told me too that my mom had rung him up almost the same day they'd called me and I told them where I was working. Mr Johnson thought it was just some weird coincidence at first, but that made him realise he'd been wrong. My dad managed to talk to him as well. He said… 'I hope he enjoys himself there. Tell the gang I miss them and that I said hi and… that they take good care of my… of my son…'"

"Well, tie me ta the mast and feed me ta the kraken." A ghost of a smile played on Foxy's mouth. "Aye, I can see it now. Yer the spittin' image of yer old man, Mike. He was a good lad, yer pa. Woulda had a hundred like him on me crew, if I could. He was a good friend. The best. One I didn't deserve…"

"Did you not hear me?" snapped Mike. "He misses you. All of you. Even now, after all these years and everything that's happened, he misses you. And a lot has happened to him, Foxy. He still remembers this place and that day in his dreams. I know now, because it was what mom comforted him about every time… every time he woke up in the middle of the night. Screaming. And crying. Muttering in his sleep. 'I should have done better. I should have done my job…'

"And he even cries during the day too, sometimes. I'd walk in on him when he thought no one was there. He'd just be crying or staring out the window. I'd ask him what was wrong and he always said that he was thinking about some very special friends that he… that he missed. That he still wished he could see. Then, he'd just pat me on the head, say I was fine and go off. He never told me who. Neither did my mom. She just said he didn't like to talk about it…"

Mike was aware of the tears burning behind his eyes. He screwed his lids shut, wiped them away and carried on.

"B-but that wasn't true. He did talk about it, i-in a way," he sniffed. "I… I didn't realise, until I really thought about it yesterday. W-when I was a kid, whenever we'd got to bed and dad got to tuck me in… he told me stories. Stories about… about the best place on earth. He told me… about a place called Freddy's. About the laughs a-and fun he had with a jolly old bear called Freddy and his f-friends. A-an awesome rabbit and a k-kindly mother hen.

"But the stories he r-really liked to tell… were the ones about sailing ships and the seven seas. Tales of daring, of sea monsters, skeleton pirates, hidden islands and buried treasure. Adventures, he said… with the greatest pirate that ever lived. The finest captain of a ship h-he'd ever known. The good captain Foxy. I always loved those stories. Because the way he told them… it was like it was really real. I always asked him if I'd ever get to see this place someday. 'Maybe someday, son,' he said. 'Maybe someday…'"

Now, the tears were really flowing down Mike's cheeks. He looked away from Foxy while he wiped them away and focused on the floor.

"I grew up, like all k-kids did. Th-they were f-fun stories, b-but that's all they were. Stories. Th-there wasn't a p-place called Freddy's. No jolly old bear, no awesome rabbit, no mother hen… no great pirate captain. I-it wasn't real. I had… other real places to f-focus on, real things. Then… this past week… I remembered them. Those old stories and I realised. My dad was right. This place was real… I finally got to see it and… and I never even knew."

He glanced up at Foxy. He was staring at Mike, enraptured. Amazed.

"It was tough, growing up," Mike went on. "M-my parents weren't very sociable. Kept to themselves. I… I didn't have any friends. N-not around the neighbourhood, not at school, not at college. I was… I was just the lonely kid. Lonely little Mike just… just kind of there. Never thought I would. Then… then I found this place. I found Freddy's. I've met all of those friends from my d-dad's stories… all except the great pirate captain Foxy. Because I look at him now and all I see… is me. Outcast. Abandoned. Alone.

He gripped Foxy's shoulder. "You've been out on the lonely seas for too long, Foxy. Now, it's time… to turn the ship around and ch-chart a course for home. If you're lucky… there might be a new first mate ready to join your crew."

Foxy's eyes were shimmering too. His lip was wobbling. He was trying very hard not to cry. He failed.

"M-Mike… oh, lad…" He hung his head and shook his head. "I'm sorry, lad… I'm so, so sorry…"

Mike had wondered if he would say that. He'd considered in his apartment after all that he had learned if he was going to be ready to hear those words… and to give the response when he did. Looking at Foxy now, he found it almost easy, despite everything, to respond.

"I forgive you." He stood up. "Hope to see you back in port soon, Captain. There's a few old friends who want to see you."

With a watery smile, Mike turned and left. Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw Foxy reaching out after him. But he couldn't stay in here with him. If he wanted to see Mike and the others, he'd have to come out himself.

Now, it was just a matter of waiting to see if it was enough.

* * *

><p>Foxy retracted his hand, flinching a little from the brief glare of light behind the curtain. By the time the curtain fluttered back into place, Mike was gone.<p>

All that the lad had said… all that he'd told him about what happened to his dear family. Things that Foxy himself caused and he was still willing to forgive him? The old pirate suspected that not even finding all the treasure in the world could make him feel as astounded or as enriched as what he had just heard.

Something stirred deep within Foxy. Like a mighty beast churning beneath the waves, yearning to burst forth. Something he hadn't felt in a very long time since that day and that he'd long since given up on. Hope. That was worth more than any piece of eight.

But then he looked at his hook hand. It glinted wickedly in his eye. He still remembered what it had done. The scream echoed in his mind once again that had nothing to do with what he'd done wearing his suit. That had happened after and… that just made him feel worse. Mike had forgiven him, but what were the chances the others would?

He cast his eyes to the bow of his ship, where his hat, coat and belt were hung. Quietly, he reached up and pulled down his hat. A worn and battered thing, much like himself. He smiled at the memory of letting a lucky first mate wear this when they got to join his crew. That was always something they clamoured for, but only one child a day would ever get that privilege.

There was that hope kindled again. Hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to have a crew of his own once again. To take on his many adventures and sail where no man, or fox, had gone before. And a chance to get his friends back.

Firmly and with resolution, Foxy placed the hat on his head, swiped down his coat and belt and went into his ship. He opened the two layers of his chest, to where he kept parts and pieces for his own maintenance and upkeep. They all had them and Foxy's hadn't been used for a long time beyond the basics.

But now, he grabbed a skin solution can, a power unit and his other hand he sometimes switched up with his hook. He only had a few hours to make himself look as presentable as possible. If the captain was coming home, he needed to look his best.


	11. Welcome Back?

**Welcome Back?**

In a bit of déjà vu from the night before, Mike left the security office to go and find Bonnie and Chica. The two of them were standing near the front of the stage when he checked the monitors to give them time to change out of their suits, Chica slumped over in a depressed manner while Bonnie had a comforting arm around her.

With trepidation, Mike approached. He noticed that there was no change at Pirate Cove. He hoped that wouldn't be a sign for how things would be all night. Bonnie saw his approach, but pointedly looked away from Mike. She forced Chica to keep looking down when she saw him and looked like she was about to make a break for him.

"Hey um, girls," he greeted nervously. Bonnie made no response and shushed Chica. "Look, I um… I wanted to apologise. For last night, I mean." Still no reply. "I did uh, want to know. But… I shouldn't have started shouting. I was just… I was frustrated at the secrets still being kept a-and Freddy said he wouldn't do anything to stop me, so… but I am sorry. Really, I am. I don't want to fall out with you two. You're my… my friends."

They still gave him the silent treatment. Thinking this was a lost cause, Mike muttered something about leaving them alone for a bit. Until he heard a loud sob and turned to see Chica push past Bonnie.

"Mike, wait! I… I'm sorry too. No, Bonnie!" she added when her friend started to say something. "He apologised! I know what he did was wrong in your eyes, but he's sorry and I don't want to lose the first friend we've had in years because of a misunderstanding!"

With that, she turned and hugged Mike. Though these were always a little sudden with Chica and he wasn't always prepared for them, but they were still… nice. Comforting. And Chica always felt so warm.

Behind her, he could see Bonnie. She was glancing this way and that, towards Mike and away from him. Her ears were twitching and she tapped her foot rapidly. She opened her mouth but quickly closed it again.

When Chica released Mike, he approached Bonnie. She sharply looked away again, but her eyes would now and again dart to Mike.

"I really am sorry, Bonnie," he said sincerely.

"Yeah," she said quickly. "Me too."

Suddenly, she walked past them both and down the west hall. Mike started after her, but was stopped by Chica.

"Leave her be, Mike," she advised. "Bonnie sometimes has a hard time being honest with how she really feels and admitting when she's wrong. Just give her some time. She'll come around."

"If you say so," murmured Mike.

"Trust me, she'll be fine." She beamed at Mike. "I'm glad we're still friends, Mike."

He returned her smile. "Me too, Chica."

"Well, I'm off to the kitchen and I believe Freddy wants to see you. If you need me or want to talk when you're done, just come on in," she said. "Have a good night, Mike."

Mike watched Chica go, humming in that melodic voice of hers. Then, he snapped out of his trance and with a bit of a flushed face, knocked on the backstage door. Freddy called him in, let him sit down and got straight to the point.

"How'd it go then, son?"

"I think I may have gotten through to him, Freddy," Mike reported. "But I couldn't tell you if it really had any effect."

"I'm sure you did your best, Mike." He leaned back in his chair. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"Looks that way," agreed Mike. "I have to say, even if it didn't work… it was nice. Talking to him, I mean."

"That so?" asked Freddy. "In what way?"

"It just… let me realise a few things. Come to terms with them, I guess. A few questions I always needed answering." Mike shook his head. "I still can't believe my dad worked here and neither he, nor my mom ever told me."

"I'm sure they had their reasons, son," reasoned Freddy. "I remember the state poor David… Andrew? Dave?" He frowned. "Ya know, confound it, I really am not sure what to call him now. I always knew him as Dave."

"Call him what you like," said Mike. "To me, he'll always be my dad."

"Fair enough, son." Freddy smiled fondly. "You know, we were the ones who gave him a lil' push when it came to your mom. Her name's Elizabeth, yes?"

"That's it," Mike nodded. "I guess all she changed was her surname then."

"There's that, at least. Anyway, he always told us about this girl who got the same bus as him whenever he'd come in for the occasional day shift," continued Freddy. "He'd talked to her a couple of times, but never anythin' solid. We could all tell he was smitten with her, so we all decided to try and get him to say a lil' more. 'Just go and ask her', we all told him one way or another. 'She'll be lucky to land herself with a feller like you.'"

"And he did?" asked Mike, though he already knew the answer.

"He did," affirmed Freddy. "Near over the moon when he told us. Took her out to a nice restaurant and it was all uphill from there. Chica suggested that he bring her here, but he thought that woulda been a lil' strange for a first date."

"Yeah, it would have," said Mike with a little laugh. "I haven't heard from them since that call and I haven't really tried calling. I wonder what he'd say to me if he knew I was still working here."

"He'd be proud-a ya, lad," a gruff, familiar-accented voice said. "I know I would."

They both turned to the door. Standing in it, looking a little sheepish at being there but still with a bit of a smile… was Foxy. For a few moments, no one said anything.

Then, with a cheer in his voice that only grew, Freddy stood up and walked around the table to meet him.

"Well, I'll be an animatronics' uncle," he murmured. "Is that you, old friend?"

"Nay. Jus' a ghost come back ta haunt ya! Arrrgh!" roared Foxy, but he was laughing.

Freddy was laughing too and embraced Foxy like a brother, clapping his hand on his back. When he pulled back, he took Foxy's hand and shook it in both of his. The smile that lit up the old bear's face made him look twenty years younger. Foxy too was smiling, looking like he hardly believed what was happening.

All of this just made the corners of Mike's mouth lift too. He waited respectfully while they revelled in each other's company after so very long.

"Arrgh, good ta see ya again, Fred!" cawed Foxy. "An' look at ya! Put on a little weight, have we?"

"Maybe. But I'm still stronger than you," chuckled Freddy.

"Aye, but you'll never be faster!" countered Foxy.

"Yes, that is your realm." He hugged him again. "It's good to see you too, you ol' seadog."

"Aye an' you, ya scurvy landlubber," he returned. "Feels like yesterday."

Freddy got Foxy another chair and sat him down at the table. Now that he was, Mike could see that Foxy looked different to when he'd seen him.

There was no overall change, but it was noticeable. His wild hair looked a little more tamed, but still enough to make him look adventurous. His clothes looked a lot better, recently repaired. The parts of his skin that had showed off metal were covered again. But most of all, it was the fox's smile that made him look different. It made his eyes light up with a joy Mike would bet he hadn't felt in years.

Freddy too was still beaming. "So, looks like Mike managed to convince you to come out from your curtain?"

"Aye that he did." Foxy shot a smile at Mike. "He has a way with words, this lad. I think we found ourselves a keeper here, Fred."

"Couldn't agree more, Foxy," nodded Freddy. "After all, Mike, this is your last night until the mandatory work days on your contract expire. Can we expect to see you after that?"

Mike was surprised when he realised that Freddy was right. The days he'd signed on for were almost finished. Now, he would have to decide whether he wanted to seek another line of work or sign a permanent contract with Freddy's. He still remembered his mom's harsh, uncompromising order that he was to quit his job at once.

But he would never find another job like this one. He would never find another group of friends like the ones he'd made here. Maybe not everything would be smooth sailing, but after all he'd been through this past week, he wasn't going to just leave and never come back. His answer was nearly immediate and completely obvious after only a moment's thought.

"Every single night from here on out," he promised.

"A-course we will!" Foxy wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Welcome ta the crew, lad! I'm thinkin' some kinda celebration is in order here!"

"Before that, Foxy, I think there's some other friends you need to go and see first," reminded Freddy.

"Oh. Righ'… that." Almost at once, Foxy's smile fell and he slumped into his chair. "Oh boy… these are goin' ta be some treacherous waters ta sail, no doubt-a that."

"It has to be done, Foxy," said Freddy firmly. "You've hidden yourself away long enough. No runnin' anymore."

"Aye, I know. I'm jus'… tryin' ta find the courage firs'." He laid his forehead on his palm. "Blast, I could go fer some rum right now."

"You know very well we don't keep alcohol in this building, Foxy," joked Freddy. "This is a children's restaurant."

"I know, I know. The sentiment's still there though. Tha' and wishin' I could actually get drunk even if I did have me some rum," he added.

"You… want us to come with you, Foxy?" asked Mike.

"Thanks lad, but no," he declined. "This is somethin' I gotta do by meself. Ya know where they are?"

Mike didn't need to ask. "Chica's in the kitchen and last I saw Bonnie, she was on her way down the west hall."

Foxy barked a laugh. "Old habits die hard. She likes ta go in the supply closet and sulk when she's in a mood," he clarified for Mike.

He stayed in the chair for a few for minutes. Finally, he rose and trudged towards the door. He looked back at them and smiled bravely.

"Wish me luck, lads," he said. "This is goin' to be a tough one."

Like a soldier marching off to war, Foxy left. Despite what he said, Mike was still tempted to join him but forced himself to stay in his chair.

"So… we wait?" he asked Freddy.

"That we do, Mike," answered Freddy. "That we do."

* * *

><p>Chica sprinkled cheese on the pizza as a fairy might sprinkle fairy dust, singing a little tune to herself. She winced from the removal of one of her feathers, but it was pride that glowed within her when she stuck it in the box along with the pizza and added it to the others.<p>

In all honesty, she was a little concerned for Bonnie, despite her outward appearance. Though she'd known her for years, she would get worried whenever she was in one of her moods. As she would get worried about any one of them. It was just how she was. She knew Bonnie would come round in the end, but she still wished she could do something.

But she resolved to just carry on with her work and hope for the best. Perhaps Mike would come by and chat when he was done with Freddy.

She'd really taken a liking to him. It had been so long since they had anyone new to talk to and Mike was great. He was such a sweetie, polite and attentive and a wonderful artist. On top of that, she really felt like she could trust Mike. He knew just about everything about them now and he still wanted to be their friend.

Except for one little thing. Unconsciously, her hand brushed against her stomach. She could still feel the one uneven place against the smoothness of her skin through her dress. She could have covered it with skin solution but… she'd never really been able to. Something always stopped her.

So, she kept it. As a sort of reminder. Of what, she wasn't really sure.

She heard the sound of the door opening and her smile brightened. She checked her reflection on the counter and smoothed down her dress quickly.

"Oh, there you are, Mike," she said, turning around. "What did Freddy… want…?"

Her synthetic heart froze when she saw who was standing there. She closed her eyes briefly, convinced this was some trick or fault in her visual receivers. But he was still standing there.

"A-ahoy there, Chica," Foxy greeted unsurely. "Still workin' the kitchen, eh?" He forced a laugh, but quickly stopped. "Can I… come in?" She still had no response. "Okay. I'll jus'… stay here then."

She finally found her voice. "Y-you can come in, i-if you want."

"Thank ye." He stepped over the threshold towards her. "Gotta say, it's good ta-"

"DON'T!" she shrieked. He froze. "S-sorry. That's… that's close enough, F-Foxy."

Foxy nodded and stayed where he was, halfway across the room from her. Silence hung heavy like a thick fog.

"Yer um… lookin' well," said Foxy nervously.

"Th-thanks. S-so do you," she murmured. She glanced at his hand. "N-no hook?"

"Mm? Oh, yes." He flexed his hand. "Aye, left it in me Cove. Didn't think it was the best thing, considerin'…"

She knew what he was referring to. Hidden under her dress was a scar that ran from her left hip to just above her naval. The one she didn't feel like she should heal. The one Foxy had given her.

"I'm… surprised," she said. "To see you out, I mean."

"You an' me both, lass," chuckled Foxy. "But tha' lad, Mike, he convinced me. Been hidden away fer too long, he said an' he was right. So, here I am."

"So that's what he was doing," she realised. "Wow… he is something."

"Aye, his father's son through and through," said Foxy proudly.

That confused Chica. "His father's son?"

"Oh, ye didn't know?" He seemed rather excited to tell her this. "He's his son, Chica. He's Ol' Davey's boy!"

"Oh my goodness," she gasped. "I-is he really?"

"Heard it straight from the horse's mouth, lass!" he said. "How's about that fer comin' full circle?"

Now that she knew, Chica could see it now. He was different from his father to be sure, but familiar traits were there. In his looks, the way he was willing to listen. She'd had a feeling, but had dismissed it.

A smile lit her face at this news. Foxy seemed to take it as a good sign and made for her again, but his movement didn't go unnoticed.

"No!" she cried. "F-Foxy, please. Just… stay there. Please?"

"B-but I want to see ya, lass," he implored.

"You can see me from there," she said in a cold voice that surprised her. "S-sorry, I don't mean to be so…"

"No, I understand." He sighed. "Chica, I… I didn't just come ta see ya. I… I came ta apologise. Fer what I did to ya. Ta all of ya, but especially to ye. Fer the-"

"I know what for, Foxy," she said tersely, again surprising herself. But she didn't stop. This had been a long time coming. "It's only taken nearly thirty years, but thank you for getting around to it."

"Chica…" He looked just as shocked. "I-I really am sorry, lass. I didn't mean-"

"You didn't mean to?" she finished. "That's comforting."

"Lass, please," he begged. "If ye knew what I felt since that day-"

"What you felt? What _you_ felt?! What about me?! I only wanted to help you, Foxy!" she shouted. "That was all! I missed you a-and I wanted you to come back! B-but then… you…"

She could still remember it. Coming with a pizza she'd made just for him, giving it her all to try and perk him up, to come out of his curtain. He wouldn't have any of it, kept telling her to leave while she persisted in her efforts. She remembered his angry roar, his hook flashing through the air, the tearing of fabric and flesh when it tore into her.

She couldn't keep up her angry tirade. Now that it was all out, her whirl of emotions was just too much. Her eyes blurred as tears began to flow down her cheeks, breaking down into uncontrollable sobs.

Foxy looked like he remembered too and his look of horror practically mirrored hers.

"Chica, lass," he said imploringly. "It was an accident, I swear on me life! When I swiped at ye, I was only meant ta knock the pizza away! If I'd know what would have happened… I was in a dark place, Chica. A lot-a things were goin' through me head. But I swear, I never, ever meant to hurt ya. I wouldn't blame ya if ya didn't fergive me, but it's the truth."

"H-how… how can I… can you…?"

"Just believe me, Chica. Please. I truly am sorry. Please…"

He spread his arms wide, to give her hug. He was so desperate, so sincere. She thought that since that day she would never see him again. That he would just stay behind his curtain and that would be it. A dangerous person, not who she thought she knew.

But looking at him now, she didn't see the monster anymore. She saw one of her oldest and dearest friends, who looked like he was ready to take that same hook to himself for the very reminder he'd hurt his friend.

Slowly, cautiously, she approached him. She saw the hope growing in his eyes. Finally, the long, long years of enduring the emptiness in her heart when he'd left made her cave in. She threw herself at him in a death grip and he gently wrapped his arms around her.

She didn't need words to express how she felt. With the addition of Mike and the return of Foxy, for Chica at least, Freddy's finally felt whole again. As did she.

* * *

><p>Bonnie leaned against the interior of the store cupboard, staring at her warped reflection in the various detergent canisters and cleaning solutions. When she felt like it, she liked coming in here. The image of an enclosed space around her helped to enclose her thoughts and feelings so she could better understand them.<p>

Stupid Mike, sticking his nose in where it wasn't allowed. What had she said to him on the first night? Stay out of Pirates Cove. And did he listen? Nope, he just went waltzing right on in there. She'd told him that to keep him safe. She didn't want to see another friend get hurt because they were where they shouldn't be.

Okay, so maybe it would have been better if she'd actually told him that. But it should have been obvious. If there were a set of closed curtains that had an 'out of order' sign in front of them, it should have been fairly obvious you weren't meant to be in there. He shouldn't have needed to be told.

Okay, so she could have said what was behind there but… it just felt weird talking about it. About him. Besides, he'd gone and found out by himself, so there was no harm done by not telling him. Only after researching and investigating for himself and after Freddy basically gave him the go ahead when he'd asked, which could have been avoided if she'd… just told him.

She groaned and propped her head against the wall. This was confusing. Should she have told him? Did it really matter? What was he doing back there anyway? Why did he go back again today? Why hadn't she just said something to him about it? Did she want her new friend to get hurt by whatever she thought had been her friend? Was whatever she thought had been her friend still her friend and would be her friend if… if her friend…?

"Man, this is so dumb!" she groaned out loud. "Should I go apologise then? I dunno…"

A knock came from the open door.

"Who in the-?" Her sentence ended abruptly.

"Heh… mind if I get a word in first?" asked Foxy.

Bonnie stared for a long while. Many, many different things she felt like saying revolved around in her mind before she selected a few choice words.

"You sneaky, backstabbing, conniving, cowardly, two-time piece of -!"

"Shhhh!" Foxy hushed quickly. "No need fer that kinda sailor speak, lass."

"Don't you 'lass' me!" she snapped. "How dare you show your face here?! How _dare_ you?!"

"Now, hold on there, Bon-"

"So, this is what Mike was doing?" she figured. "Getting you to come back, was he? You're just lucky he wasn't hurt or I would have made sure _you_ were!"

"Aye, that's what he was-"

"Did you think it was all gonna be fine then? Thought you were gonna come along and I'd be all smiles and hugs and happy to see my bestest pal Foxy again? Well, just replace 'beating the crud out of you' and 'hugs' with 'kicking the crud out of you' and 'happy to see you' with 'taking this mop and ramming it up your furry-!'"

"As feisty as I remember ya," Foxy interjected. "Yer… still angry with me then?"

"Well gee, Foxy, what gave you that idea?" she snapped.

"Bonnie, please. We were best friends-"

"Yeah, _were_. Emphasis on the past tense!"

Foxy look stung, but she didn't really care. "I… I figured that'd be the case. But regardless-a that… I just wanted ta say… I'm sorry."

"Oh, you're sorry?" she sneered. "For what part? For biting that guy's face off? For scarring my friend? _Your_ friend? For making me think that everything I thought I knew about one of my best friends was complete and utter crap?!"

He nodded solemnly. "Aye. All-a that."

"Oh, well that's all just hunky dory, isn't it?" She turned her back on him, though she could see him in the glass. "Do me a favour and clear off back to that Cove where you belong."

But he didn't go. He was still there, staring at her back.

"Are you deaf?!" she demanded. "I said beat it! Don't ever show your face again, if you know what's good for you!"

He still didn't leave. She so badly wanted to just turn around and sock him across the jaw, but something held her back. She just wanted him gone. Didn't she?

"Bonnie, hear me out." She didn't say anything. She was done talking. "I did wrong by ya. By Freddy, Chica, Aaron, Dave… but most of all, you. We were thick as thieves, you an' me? Remember all them pranks we pulled on each other? That time I overloaded yer speakers? When ya stole me hook an' used it fer roastin' smores? When we'd work tagether ta pull 'em off? Replacin' Freddy's hat with one that burst with snakes? Replacin' the knives in the kitchen with rubber ones? All-a them stink bombs we set in the bathrooms? How did it take 'em ta get the smell out? A week, two weeks?"

"Week and a half," she remembered with a smirk, in spite herself. "Thought someone had come down with something really bad."

"Oh aye, they did." Foxy chuckled. "It was the hardest, ya know. Losin' you. I'd always expect ta wake up ta somethin' each night, some little scheme-a yers or one-a mine ta pull. Never meant nothin' by it an' we always laughed afterwards. Once Johnson an' Freddy stopped givin' us the standard lecture. But wakin' up an' knowin' nothin' was comin', that there was nothin' ta plan or prepare… that was the worst."

Again, Bonnie said nothing. Because she didn't want to admit that she'd missed it too.

"What I did was wrong. I wasn't meself, some of it was accidental, but that don't excuse it," he went on. "But Bonnie… Bon… it's been years. Please, fergive me? If nothin' else, I jus' want ta be able ta laugh with ya again. Like we used ta do. Ta have me friend back. But… if you really don't want ta… go ahead."

She could make out that he had spread his arms apart. She turned with an incredulous look.

"A hug? What even, Foxy?"

"Not a hug. A free hit. A lotta free hits," he added. "Wherever ya want. I know yer achin' ta. I'll even go back to me Cove afterward. Just… go on…"

She could tell this was hard for him. She couldn't quite believe it herself. It was big enough he was even here, but now he was offering a chance for her just to hit him? Just like that? This was the same guy that had bitten that parent and attacked her friend? Willing to suffer physical harm just for a chance at forgiveness?

Bonnie thought long and hard. She approached him. She stared long and hard at him. He stood with his arms apart, waiting for her decision.

"Okay then." Finally, she slammed her fist into his face, sending him reeling back. "That's for abandoning us!" She punched him in the gut and made him double over. "That's for hurting Chica!" Then, she yanked him to his feet. He grimaced for another blow. But she instead pulled him into a hug. "This is for coming back."

With a few pained groans, he managed to return the hug. "Ya… might have overdone it a bit there, dontcha think?"

"Oh, that was nothing." She locked eyes with him and prodded his chest. "Trust me when I say this: if you ever, _ever_ pull anything like that again, I'm going to reach inside your chest, tear out your central processor and feed it to you on one of Chica's pizzas. You got it?"

"Aye, that sounds about fair." Foxy smiled. "I've missed ya, Bon."

In spite herself, she smiled as well and she finally admitted what she'd spent so long vehemently denying.

"I missed you too, Foxy."


	12. Time to Start the Show!

**Time to Start the Show!**

Mike was grinning along with Freddy when Foxy returned with Bonnie and Chica in tow. They both stood from the table and approached them.

"Now, this is somethin' I never thought I'd live to see. Our lil' family all back together." He beamed at them all. "I'm proud of you. All of you."

"Yeah. Really, with you, Chica and Mike, it seems like I'm the only irresponsible one around here," noted Bonnie. "Now, the scales have been tipped back in my favour."

"_Our_ favour," corrected Foxy.

Bonnie waved a hand dismissively. "Please. We both know I'm the chief troublemaker around here."

"Fer now," he said with a chuckle.

"I'm glad he's back," Chica said. "Just so long as um… he doesn't wear the… the hook around, um… me."

"They seem like fair terms ta me, Chica," agreed Foxy. "Ya have me word that whenever I see ya, the hook stays hidden."

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

Mike meant to ask what the deal was with the hook, but decided against it. Whatever it was, it was a sensitive issue and he felt they would tell him later.

"But let's not forget why we have our friend back to begin with." Freddy's eyes turned to Mike. "You've done us all a great service here, Mike."

"It's okay," shrugged Mike. "I was happy to help you guys."

"That just makes it even greater that you did it," said Chica glowingly. "Thank you so much, Mike."

"Aye, a fine fellow ya are, no doubt-a that," added Foxy.

"Yeah." A little awkwardly, Bonnie came up to him. "And uh, I'm sorry. You know, for losing it with you. I get why you did what you did. I just… didn't want to see another friend get hurt."

"Apology accepted," said Mike at once.

"Thanks, Mikey." She raised a fist, which he bumped.

"Your father really would be very proud of you," said Freddy sincerely. "For helpin' us as I'm sure he would have done, were he here."

"Wait, am I missing something here?" asked Bonnie.

"Ye want ta tell her, lad?" prompted Foxy.

Mike nodded. "I'm David's son. David Smith, I mean. He changed his name to Andrew Schmidt when he moved to get away from the press."

"No way!" Bonnie shook her head in amazement. "Why am I the last one to know about this? Seriously? No one thought to tell me before now and you all knew?"

"To be fair, I only found out about it a couple of minutes ago," put in Chica.

"And I just last night," added Freddy.

"But I heard it straight from the man himself first," said Foxy proudly.

"So you told the outcast about this first, but not your very first friend here?" Bonnie huffed in mock-offense. "I'm hurt, Mikey!"

"Wounded even?" he teased.

"Hurt, Mike," she sniggered. "But seriously, that is pretty cool. And yeah, your dad would be pretty proud."

"Thanks, Bonnie."

"No problem. Just don't let it get to your head," she advised, rapping his skull.

"Sorry to cut this short, but I'm afraid we have a rather pressin' matter," announced Freddy. "Mike, would you be so kind as to give me the time?"

"Sure." He glanced at his phone clock. "Uh, nearly 1AM."

"Thank you. Okay, everybody," Freddy said loudly. "Now we have Foxy back, we can start getting him ready for tomorrow. We don't have as much time as I'd like, so we'll have to work fast. Bonnie, get some paint from the store cupboard so we can spruce up Pirate's Cove and get started on that."

"On it, boss!" she saluted, bounding off.

"Chica, you get Foxy's suit and start makin' the necessary repairs. We need to have him looking his best. See if you can't dull those teeth too to make it safer."

"Right away, Freddy," she replied, hurrying away.

"Foxy, you stay here with me. We can go over your routine, see if there's anythin' new you want to add and we can decide how to make your grand entrance."

"Aye aye, sir." Foxy looked a little nervous. "Ooh, it has been a while since I did any performin'. I think I am a lil' rusty."

"That's why we're doin' this. You'll be fine. Mike," he said, "I want you to oversee operations and offer help, if anyone needs it."

"Right," nodded Mike. "We're really bringing him back tomorrow?"

"We are indeed," answered Freddy. "It'd be nice if you could come along and see it tomorrow, Mike. It should be quite a show."

"I'll be there," promised Mike. "Besides, I need to come in anyway. There's something I need to do."

* * *

><p>"There you are, lad!" Mr Johnson finished writing the slip and handed it to him. "Your first pay check for your first week here at Freddy's."<p>

"Thank you, sir." He felt a sense of pride seeing the fully signed check, allocating $120 in total for his week.

"It's not very substantial, I know," he said solemnly. "But with the state of the first contract and our financial affairs, we can't really afford to pay someone who isn't going to stick around."

"I understand, sir," nodded Mike. "This'll be enough to get me by, for now."

"Excellent. But now you've made your decision, that won't be the case next week." He pulled out another piece of paper from his desk. "Here we are then!" Mr Johnson handed Mike the form. "A contract of permanent employment in the night guard position at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. Just sign the bottom there."

A quick overview told Mike this was pretty much the same as his first contract, but his pay had been bumped up from $4 an hour to $12. Better than nothing. He signed it with a flourish and gave it back, firmly shaking Mr Johnson's hand.

"Nice to have you on board for good, lad," he said. "Have you told your parents yet?"

"No, sir. But I will tonight," he replied.

"Good, good. Give your old man my best, I may drop him a line myself. And speaking of tonight," he added, "if you fancy it, there's an opportunity to earn a little overtime for you. Interested?"

Mike grinned. "You don't even need to ask, sir!"

"Bang on!" he chortled. "Well, usual time, lad. I won't keep you. As I understand it, there's a special show going on in just a few minutes. And here…" He pulled out a coupon for a free pizza and gave it to Mike. "Have that one on me. Have a good one!"

Mike waved to him, gave a smug sort of smile to a haughty Mel as he passed and hurried downstairs. He handed in the coupon and took a seat at the back, waiting for his pizza. He was very pleasantly surprised when it came and he discovered a yellow feather stuck in the box. Today really was a good day.

He watched Freddy and the band perform their last number for the cheering kids. They took their bows and Freddy raised his hand to silence the cheering kids. He saw the sign for Pirate Cove was still up, but he had a feeling that was just to help sell the surprise.

"Thank you, thank you everyone! Now, before we carry on, we've got a very special announcement to make." The kids leaned forward in anticipation. "A very old friend of ours is coming to perform for you all today. He's _so _old that your parents would have still been kids when he was around. And I'd say he's just about ready. Wouldn't you, gang?"

"I very much agree, Freddy," nodded Chica.

"So what are we waiting for?" asked Bonnie. "Let's get him out here!"

"Sounds good to me!" the bear chuckled. "Now, without further ado, let me introduce you all to… Foxy the Pirate!"

The spot light shone on Pirate Cove. Music akin to Pirates of the Caribbean began playing. The curtains flung open, revealing the Cove reborn. The ship looked better than new, the set water lapping around its bow offset the effect and the port was ready to receive the captain.

But there was no sign of him.

The kids all stared in confusion, the adults in apprehension. Mike was worried. Had Foxy gotten cold feet? But his worries were silenced when the band spoke up again and he realised what was happening.

"Well hey, where's Foxy?" wondered Freddy. "I know he's around here somewhere."

"Oh, that old scallywag," giggled Chica. "He's probably just hiding away with his treasure."

"Why don't we try calling him out?" suggested Bonnie.

"Great idea! If all of us call together for him, he's sure to come out!" He leaned towards the audience. "Are you kids gonna help us?" The eager faces nodded. "Well, alright then! When I call out for Foxy, you call with me! Ready, on the count of three: one, two, three! Foxy!"

Only a few kids joined in with Freddy.

"Aw, come on!" Bonnie protested. "You guys can do better than that, I know you can!"

"Let's try it again. One, two, three! Foxy!"

The response was louder this time and a few kids gasped when they heard a quiet, gruff chuckling from somewhere.

"I think we almost got it! Let's try it one more time, as loud as you can!" urged Freddy. "One, two, three! FOXY!"

A trapdoor from the port sprung open and out bounded Foxy with a hearty laugh. He was fully clad with his hat, jacket, hook, gun, belt and sword.

"Yar har har! Ahoy there, mateys!" he greeted. "Ol' Foxy heard the call of some buddin' sea pirates an' came as fast as the winds would carry him! But what be this?!" He swiped the sign up. "'Out of order?' I don't think so!" With that, he chucked the sign off backstage. "Aye, much be'er!"

But there was no cheer for his arrival, no applause. Only stunned, shocked silence. Foxy had paused to allow for some and looked disappointed when he didn't get it, but he carried on.

"An' if it ain't me good mates, Freddy, Bonnie and Chica. Ahoy there, landlubbers!"

"Howdy there, Foxy," said Freddy, tipping his hat. "You ready to accept some new crewmates?"

"Always ready, Freddy!" he returned. "Jus' send 'em on over an' I'll bring 'em back safe an' sound. Swear on the pirate's code!"

"Sure thing! Alright kids, head on over to the Pirate's Cove and have yourselves a good time! We'll be here when you come back!"

But none of the kids did. They all seemed very surprised and a little scared at the appearance of this character they'd never seen before. A few of the parents held onto their children protectively. Did they know about the Bite or did they think Foxy looked dangerous?

"Go on, little ones," prompted Chica gently. "Foxy might look fierce, but he's a very good fox and an excellent captain."

"Just stay close to your moms and dads if you're scared," added Bonnie. "But trust me, old Foxy is a cool guy. I mean, he's a pirate! What's not cool about that?"

They seemed reassured by their words and cautiously approached his stage. Even when they got there, it was at a safe distance from the stage and the parents held onto their kids. Some kids were even just hiding.

"Aye, there we are! Well, this looks ta be a fine bunch-a young buccaneers!" he said confidently. "Who wants ta be the first ta join me crew and sail away ta adventure?"

But none of the children approached Foxy. The very few that tried were held back by their parents. Mike exchanged a worried look with the band. They'd expected some trepidation from the kids. They'd just been used to watching them perform, not taking part in the show themselves beyond cheering and sometimes talking. Even so this was looking pretty bad.

Foxy too noticed their reluctance. He seemed to falter a bit, losing his confident swagger.

"N-no one?" he asked. "There's not even one who wants ta join ol' Foxy on a trip across the seven seas?"

For a moment, it seemed like the answer would be no. Freddy and the others gave unsure looks to one another. Foxy looked just about ready to give up and go.

But one brave child stepped forward, one that Mike recognised. She wriggled away from adults holding her back and approached Foxy. He brightened visibly and knelt down to greet her.

"Why, here's a fine young lass if I ever saw one!" he remarked. "An' what be yer name, lil' miss?"

"A-Annie," she answered.

"Fine name fer a fine lass!" he declared. "Ya seekin' ta join me crew, Annie?"

"Um… I kind of wanted to ask something," she murmured.

"Ask away, lass. Ask away," he prompted.

She fiddled with her fingers for a bit. "H-how come you've been a-away so long?"

Foxy was quiet. Mike wasn't sure if he'd been expecting that question, but he answered regardless, staying in character.

"I been away, lass, on a long sea voyage. Many trials and dangers I did face, but I survived an' now I'm back."

"Why was it so long?" she asked.

Again, Foxy paused to consider. He placed a hand on her little shoulder, pulling her a little closer. Some of the parents started forward, but Foxy did nothing else so they backed off. They still looked cautious.

"Ya really want ta know, Annie?" She nodded. "Alrigh' then. Ya see, a long, long time ago, Ol' Foxy did somethin'… well, somethin' very bad. Very, _very_ bad."

She gasped. "R-really?"

"Aye, I did. Now, what do yer parents do when you do somethin' bad, Annie?" he asked.

"They put me on time-out," she answered. "B-but I always try to be good."

"Tha's good ta hear, lass. Ya should. So do I," he said solemnly. "I didn't mean ta, but I ended up doin' somethin' bad too. See, I… I hurt someone. I hurt 'em real bad and everyone hated me fer it. Me friends, me family, me crew. How couldn't they? So, I set off on me own, away from it all. That's what me voyage was: me punishment. Ta sail the most treacherous of seas fer what I did an' probably ne'er return. I really thought I wouldn't. In a fearsome storm, I ended up crashin' me ship an' wound up on a desert island. No food, no water, no chance-a rescue. I thought me number was up."

Annie looked horrified at the thought. Some of the kids gazed in amazement at Foxy. Even the parents looked a little less scared now. This was looking good. Even Mike had to admit that with Foxy's storytelling, it was like this had really happened.

"But then, I was saved. In me darkest hour, another ship sailed into view on the horizon. The good ship _Salvation_, she was called an' captained by a very fine, very good man. He found Ol' Foxy, all washed up an' alone. He took me back, healed me wounds an' even gave me a ride back ta the port I'd started from. It was then I found out that I'd been gone so long tha' they didn't hate me anymore. They remembered what I did, bu' they gave me another chance an' took me back in. The finest folks I've ever had the pleasure-a knowin'."

"Wow," she whispered. "Who are they?"

Foxy lifted from his sombre demeanour to laugh. "Why, yer lookin' at 'em, lass!" He pointed back to them. "Freddy, Bonnie an' Chica. They're me best friends an' me family. All Ol' Foxy did an' they still wanted me back! Tha's what families do, Annie. Through thick an' thin, they're always there fer ya."

"What about the captain?" a boy asked. "The one who saved you?"

Mike could feel it coming now. He mentally prepared himself for it.

"Ya want ta know, lad?" He nodded and Foxy laughed. "Ye need look no further than tha' man there!" Every eye turned to Mike. His face burned once more. "See, wha' Foxy done had hurt him too. He had every reason ta hate me. Bu' instead, out-a the goodness of his heart, he saved me and brought me back. I barely know 'im, bu' I know we're gonna be good friends. Tha' right, Mike?"

"Y-yeah," Mike nodded, pride welling up inside. "The best!"

"Yay for Mike!" cheered Annie. "Thank you for saving Foxy!"

Mike waved modestly as a few other kids cheered too. Now, they started to approach Foxy, looking a lot more excited than before.

"All righ' then, mateys!" Foxy crowed. "Who's ready for an adventure?!"

And what an adventure it was. With full interaction, Foxy really helped bring it to life. He carried children on his back, swooped them around like aeroplanes and waved his sword and fired his gun at moments when he needed to. He was always careful not to do it near the kids, telling them to stand back while he fought some imaginary monster. He'd sometimes even jump behind the stage and pretend to grapple with something.

"Aha! There ye be!" he'd say. With some very convincing sounds and yells, he made the kids really worried for him. He'd pop his head around the corner. "Kids, don't come back here, I got thi-!" He'd be cut off by a tentacle wrapping around his neck and yanking him back. "Ye don't frighten me, ya timorous beasty! Taste me steel!"

They were almost reluctant to return to Freddy and the band when the adventure was over. But it was then that the band revealed its second surprise.

"Hey, that looks like a lot of fun!" Freddy said. "Hey guys? What say we get in on this?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me, Fred!" agreed Bonnie, setting down her guitar.

"Me too," said Chica, placing down her cupcake.

"Well, here we go then!" Freddy placed his microphone in its stand and stepped off the stage, followed by his bandmates. "Ah, good to stretch my legs. Hey, kids!"

The children were ecstatic at the sight of Freddy and his friends actually stepping off the stage to join them. Foxy strode over to join them and together, they sang.

_Till the end we will be with you,  
>In the place where our dreams come true,<br>All the times that we will go through,  
>You will always be our best friends...<em>

After a clamour of applause, the kids hurried to have the chance to hug, play and talk with their favourite characters. Foxy darted around the room while kids tried to catch him. Bonnie let the kids touch her guitar and played requests. Chica seemed utterly delighted to finally hug the children again. Freddy wandered around making small talk and found his way to Mike.

Unable to keep the smile off his face, Mike shook the bear's hand and leaned in to whisper.

"Hope you guys aren't too out of practice. We're going to play a little game tonight."


	13. Nothing To Worry About

**Nothing To Worry About**

Mike flexed his fingers, mentally preparing himself. He'd been around this place enough times. He knew who he was up against. He'd managed to get some former inside information. Now, it was time to see if it would all pay off.

He flipped the monitor open upon which the stage camera was already on. Both Chica and Freddy were still there, but Bonnie had already gone. Quick to the draw. He changed to the dining room. He could make out one of her ears poking out from behind a table. She stuck her head up and looked at the camera, waving and grinning.

"Yeah, you're cocky now, Bonnie," he murmured. "Just you wait."

She winked and travelled towards backstage. He flicked back to the stage. Chica had gone now. Another flick back to the dining room found her, fumbling with a chair. She saw the camera was on, her eyes widened and she dived behind a table, knocking over a chair.

Mike laughed a little while he watched her trying to straighten the chair while using the table as cover. She peered out and mouthed 'sorry' before hiding again. She'd probably be off towards the kitchen.

He checked backstage and almost fell out of his chair in shock. An eyeless Bonnie mask was right up in the camera lens. Her hands took it either side and lifted it down, revealing the genuine article laughing away.

Mike rolled his eyes and checked Pirate Cove. Thankfully, Foxy was still behind his curtain. He had a feeling he'd be one to keep an eye on. A quick check at the stage. Freddy was still there, idly rocking back and forth on his feet. Both of the boys were biding their time then. Just the girls to keep an eye on.

He jumped at the sound of metal crashing. The occasional "oh dear" and "oops, sorry" drifted down the hall too. That was Chica in the kitchen then. Wow, she really was clumsy under pressure. At least she'd be easy to keep track of.

Mike flicked back to west hall. There was Bonnie standing at the other end, her hand pressed to her chin in thought. She paced from side to side. She leaned her head against her hands. He studied her for a moment. What was she up to?

Her hand came away from her mouth and very faintly, he saw it. Her smirk. She was just trying to keep his attention.

Mike selected Pirate Cove and felt a catch in his throat. There was Foxy, peering out from behind his sanctuary. His yellow eyes were fixed on the camera. He gave a little wave and performed an 'I'm watching you' motion with his fingers.

He gulped. She must have set this up with him. Checking the closet camera he found her, her smirk in full view while she glanced at the camera and left the room. Getting a little close now. He could practically hear her footsteps.

He checked left side's cameras, bringing up the bathrooms. Chica was just arriving. She first approached the men's, realised where she was going and hurriedly hid in the ladies with a bit of a blush. Then, she saw the camera on and her blush deepened.

He almost felt kind of bad for her.

He checked west side and glimpsed something whipping by the west corner camera. It took Mike less than a second to react. He shoved the monitor down and slammed the door button. The heavy metal shut.

"Aw, come on!" he heard the muffled voice of Bonnie protest.

He allowed himself a smile. Now, she would have to go away and wait at least a minute before attempting that again, according to the rules. He hit the door light and saw her silhouetted in the light, still outside the door.

"Okay, okay, I'm gone." He faintly heard her muttering while she stalked off.

He opened the right door and pulled the monitor back up. Hopefully, Chica wouldn't have taken the chance to try sneaking in during that distraction.

She hadn't. She was at the corner of the east hall, mentally prepping herself by the look of it. She was leaning against the wall, taking deep breaths and murmuring words of encouragement. Slowly, she tiptoed past the camera towards the office.

Mike really had to feel sorry for her. He turned on the left light and she squeaked with shock when he saw her illuminated in the window. He closed the door and gave her an apologetic smile through the glass.

Unlike Bonnie though, she was a good sport and smiled back with a little wave.

"It's okay, Mike," she said brightly. "I can try again. Good work."

She dipped in a curtsey and left. Mike inadvertently tipped his hat, then returned to the world of monitors. Chica was off back down the hall to the kitchen. Bonnie was sulking in the dining room, tapping her foot. Foxy was-

Mike froze. Foxy had left his curtain. He was limbering up, getting ready for a sprint. He grinned wickedly at the camera. No doubt he was waiting for Mike's attention to be drawn before making a run for it. Mike had been told he was fast. He'd seen him around the restaurant with…

Quickly, very quickly, he checked the stage and saw what he'd hoped not to see. Freddy was gone.

As fast as he could, Mike cycled through the cameras. Bonnie and Chica looked to be discussing something backstage. Foxy was still outside Pirate Cove, ready to run. He couldn't see Freddy anywhere.

They weren't kidding when they said he was good at hiding.

His rapid cycling of the cameras let him see something at the curtain. No Foxy. The sound of rapid footsteps reached his ears. Just as they neared him, Mike reached the button and the door fell into place.

A loud clang greeted Mike's ears.

"Arrgh! Blast it!" Foxy cursed.

Mike breathed a sigh of relief. He caught Foxy slouching back the way he came, holding onto his nose. Bonnie's laughter echoed down the hall when he opened the door again.

Now, where was Freddy? Mike went through the cameras a little more carefully until he found him. He was in the east hall, but barely visible. Mike could only make out his eyes, while he lurked in a darker part of the hall.

The eyes blinked once, looking at the camera. Then, he backed off. Mike managed to catch him slipping into the bathrooms, still managing to hide with only his eyes exposing.

Wow, he was good. But at least he knew where he was now. He checked on the others and found Chica, standing in the dining room.

Oddly though, she wasn't making any attempt to hide. Instead, she had a shy little smile on her face and waved daintily up at the camera. She mouthed 'hi, Mike' and flashed her pearly white teeth. She once again curtseyed and afterwards shifted her weight from foot to foot, fiddling with her fingers. It reminded Mike of a nervous girl about to ask a guy she liked to prom and was honestly really cute.

But Mike quickly snapped out of his stupor when he realised something. Bonnie wasn't with her anymore. Pushing the monitor down, he hit the door light. He briefly saw her crouched down, a triumphant leer frozen on her face.

Then, he slammed the door on her.

"Darn it!" she swore. "Almost had it that time!"

"Nice try," he murmured. He cycled back to Chica, who looked a little ashamed at her attempt to distract him and mouthed 'sorry' to the camera. "I think Bonnie's rubbing off on you."

He flicked back to the bathrooms. Freddy had left. Desperately, he hurried through the other cameras. Bonnie being met by Chica in the dining room. Foxy peering out from his curtain. No sign of the bear anywhere.

He checked the door light. Nothing outside. Where could he have gone? He couldn't be that good at hiding, he had to be somewhere. He just had to find him. He went for the door, to close it just to be on the safe side.

A powerful hand grabbed his elbow. Mike's whole body froze. A soft spoken voice came from right behind him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, son," it said.

Mike managed to breathe again. "Okay, Freddy. You win. Game's over, guys! Freddy got in!"

"Of course he did!" Bonnie's voice echoed. "I told you he was good!"

"Yeah, you did," murmured Mike. He stood up and shook his hand. "Good game, Fred."

"You too, son," he returned. "Not bad for your first time."

"Thanks," he replied. They walked towards the dining room. "That was over quickly."

"We couldn't really keep it goin' for long, Mike," reminded Freddy. "We only got a limited amount of power and the last thing we want is for the cooks to be on you because the fridges ran outta juice."

"Yeah, I know." They waited while Foxy came out and the girls gathered. "Still, that was pretty fun."

"Easy fer ye ta say, matey." Foxy was still rubbing his nose. "Blast, I'd forgotten how much that hurt! Gotta try an' be quicker next time."

"Or stop yourself sooner," sniggered Bonnie. "And it might have seemed okay to you tonight, Mike. But wait until we do it wearing the suits."

Mike had a mental flash of the four of them creeping around dressed in those freaky things and shuddered. Bonnie caught it and smirked.

"Yeah, that's gonna be fun. Hey, you should check out what Freddy's suit can do when he wants it, looks great in the dark. Wanna show him, boss?" she asked.

"If you insist. Just wait right here, be back in a jiffy." He strolled off to go and retrieve his suit.

"Ya know, lad," said Foxy, "from how ye were reactin' ta our advances, I'd say you'd played against us before at some point."

"Not quite," admitted Mike. "See, I did ring my dad today to tell him I'm staying at Freddy's while mom was at work. He says hi to you all, by the way."

"Oh, that's nice of him," remarked Chica. "I'm guessing that he told you about some of our little tricks?"

"He gave me one or two pointers," said Mike. "He said Bonnie likes to come from the right, while Chica and Freddy come from the left. That uh, Foxy will stay in the Cove so long as he's being watched, but sometimes he cheats a bit."

Foxy raised an eyebrow. "Pirate, lad."

"Yeah, fair point," agreed Mike. "But aside from that, just be ready for anything. You guys can apparently mix it up when you want to."

"Oh, you bet we can," cackled Bonnie. "We do have our usual routes, but that's just so you get lulled into a false sense of security. Sometimes, we switch ways, work all together at once or rush you. Anything can happen."

"Aye! Oh, like that one lil' distraction that involved Chica!" exclaimed Foxy. "Remember tha'?"

"Oh no." Chica blushed red and looked away. "N-no, please, don't remind me…"

"Oh yeah," nodded Bonnie. "Was that the one where we had her stand in the middle of the dining room and we managed to get that cassette player? That was a good one, you really nailed that little distraction, Cheeks."

"B-Bonnie," she whispered, blushing even more.

Mike blushed a little too. His first thought that involved a woman distracting someone by using music coupled by how embarrassed Chica looked by it wasn't exactly… well, clean.

"So um, what happened?" he asked.

At this point, both Foxy and Bonnie were laughing while Chica was blushing up a storm.

"Oh, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey," laughed Bonnie. "I've got two words for you. Just two words to sum it all up."

"No, no!" Chica looked utterly mortified. "P-please, don't tell him!"

"Chicken. Dance," Bonnie guffawed, almost falling off the table she sat on. "Oh man, that was the best!"

"So embarrassing," muttered Chica, her face in her hands.

"Aye, but it worked!" put in Foxy. "Managed ta dash on in while Davey was clutchin' his sides and rollin' on the floor!"

"O-oh." Mike frowned. "You… you made her do the Chicken Dance?"

"Yeah, we did!" Bonnie looked curious. "Why? What did you think she did?"

"N-nothing," stammered Mike quickly. He felt a little ashamed now.

Bonnie, however, was quick to catch on. Mike felt his cheeks burn as a sly smile crept onto her face. Mike desperately begged her with his eyes to keep quiet. She only winked and leaned in to whisper.

"Perv."

"Wha' be this then?" asked Foxy while Bonnie sniggered.

"Inside joke, Foxy," shrugged Bonnie. "I'll fill you in later."

Foxy looked a little bothered, probably for the reminder of what he'd missed out on. But he shrugged it off and started whistling a sea shanty.

Mike, meanwhile, turned his attention to Chica. She still looked rather embarrassed and her eyes darted away from Mike, like she'd been glancing at him.

"It really was silly," she murmured. "I-I wish you didn't h-have to hear about that, M-Mike."

"Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "We've all done embarrassing things. I mean, personally, I think that sounds kind of cute."

Chica looked up. "R-really?"

He nodded. "I mean, it must have been really humiliating so I won't exactly ask you to do it. But yeah. You doing the Chicken Dance sounds cute."

"Th-thank you, Mike." She smiled that little shy smile. "M-maybe sometime… you'll get to see. I um, wouldn't mind doing it for you."

"That'd um… that'd be nice," he said.

He thought he heard Bonnie whisper something to Foxy and the two of them silently laughing. He turned to look at them just as all the lights suddenly turned off. Soft, padding footsteps walked towards them.

Then, the eyes and teeth of Freddy's head on his costume. They flickered in time to a carnival jingle. A piece of music that rang familiar in Mike's ears, but he couldn't quite place it. Still, it was more than a little eerie to see Freddy's costumed face staring at him from the dark.

There was a little smattering of applause when it was over and Freddy took a bow before he went to turn the lights back on.

"Toreador March from the opera _Carmen_," explained Freddy. "Our father always did like that play, from what we were told."

"It's a nice jingle," agreed Mike.

Freddy nodded, pulled off his mask and sat down with them. "Well, well, things have certainly changed around here, haven't they?"

"It almost feels like the old days again," said Chica.

"We can never truly recapture the past, Chica," said Freddy sagely. "But the best we can do is hope for the best in the future. With the news gettin' about Foxy's return, about us bein' able ta interact again and our young friend here, I can safely say that we're finally startin' ta get back on track."

"Don't wanna jinx it, but yeah, things are starting to look up again," agreed Bonnie.

"It was so wonderful," sighed Chica. "To be able to see them up close again, to hold them. I've missed it so much."

"An' ya gave this ol' sea dog a second chance," said Foxy happily. "Whatever it takes, I'm gonna do my part ta make this place great again."

"Me too," vowed Mike. "I have to admit, when I came into this, it was a bit overwhelming. But now I can tell you all, with utter honesty, there's nothing to worry about. We'll do fine."

There was no opposition to Mike's sentiment and it only made him feel more secure in that thought. With a secure job, a decent pay check, Freddy's on the rise and his new group of friends, what could be better?

In truth, there really was nothing to worry about.

* * *

><p><strong>Aaand that's the end of that chapter and this story.<strong>

**Thank you all very much for taking the time to read, favourite, follow and review the story. I'm happy you all enjoyed what I had to offer.**

**Now, this was really just a creative release for me. I actually have another story I'm committed to, but until some things get sorted out, I did this to hone my writing and pass the time, as well as release some creative build up surrounding this game. I just had to get the story out of my system.**

**I may come back to it, but if I do, it probably won't be anything as long as this. Probably just some little one shots or mini fics based in my AU of Freddy's. Just some little things, but nothing exactly ground-breaking. Even then, this was never meant to be a long epic. Just seeing what I could do in Five Nights, a story about restoring some actual hope to that place.**

**Maybe the last chapter was a little 'too happy', but in my eyes, that was the point. And sorry, no Golden Freddy. Well, not yet anyway…**

**In addition, I have my university work to do and did this with daily updates because it was short and so I could get it done.**

**That being said, I had a great time writing this. I'm glad you all enjoyed my take on Freddy's. Yes, I know Bonnie is meant to be a guy but Scott himself said he's not that fussed on how we assign genders to the 'trons. After all, they are just robots. I just prefer seeing Bonnie as female.**

**Well, I think that's all I needed to say. Farewell for now, my friends. If you liked this, feel free to check out my other work. Even if my earlier stuff is god-awful.**

**Be strong, be swift, be just.**

**AlphatheGriffin17**


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